Of Seamen and Landlubbers
by Canadino
Summary: America, a new admiral for the Allies of Hetalia, must protect the seas with justice! Will he foil England's pirate plans, or will he have everything stolen from underneath him, including his heart? USUK, S/R, F/C, G/J, G/I
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: If Axis Powers Hetalia were mine, I wouldn't need to write fanfics. If any of these songs were mine, I wouldn't be writing fanfics.**

Background music: --

**Minimal fluff 09!**

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Of Seamen and Landlubbers

He had done it. After years of studies and sacrifices and hardships, he had finally finished his schooling. Then years of battles and determination after _that_, he had finally risen up to the title of Admiral of the high seas. It was his job, nay his mission in life, to patrol the oceans and rid them of evildoers. Today was his first day on the job, the first day of his admiral-ness, and visions of fighting pirates and thick tentacled octopi floated through his head and…

"Watch out world, 'cause the hero America is here!"

Granted, only his crew and a few startled birds flying overhead could hear him over the rush of water under his feet, but America didn't care. He had effing _done_ it, now everyone would acknowledge him as the preserver of justice on these rough seas, the beacon of light that would bring hope and peace to the children! He thought he struck quite the heroic pose standing at the bow, pointing his finger to the horizon. His crew of the Hero U.S, having heard this all before, continued on their duties. One brave soul, Luthiania, stepped forward after emerging from his look-out spot.

"Excuse me, Admiral, sir."

"Call me America, Luthiania." After all, heroes can afford to be modest as well. Staring down with his glasses glinting with the sun and the salty spray, America struck the most courageous smile he could, while Luthiania looked up at him with indifference.

"Er…America, sir, a ship's been spotted."

"Perfect! Is it in trouble? Do we have our first job?" Luthiania was contemplating telling America that he didn't have a hearing problem and the zealous admiral didn't have to yell everything. "Or…is it a pirate ship? Will we have our first fight on the seas? Get the cannons ready!"

"Um…there's no need for that yet, sir…at least, I don't think so yet…"

"What do you mean? Explain." America leapt down from the platform and started striding across the deck to his quarters. Luthiania followed behind at a respectful distance, although he could also be standing further away from America's enthusiasm, either way. The other crew members greeted their captain with a nod as they went about their jobs.

"Well…it _seems _to be an unmarked ship. There's a flag flying over it but it doesn't mean anything so I assume it was a crest. It's too far to really tell, sir. But it's coming toward us at a decent pace, so I assumed you might want to know. It doesn't seem hostile but you never know."

Reaching his room, America threw open the door and revealed a room of red, white, and blue patriotic memorabilia. Rushing to his desk, he started sorting through the pile of books, papers, plates, and other junk he left cluttered around. He had told the crew that his room was off limits (he had said with his power as admiral), so although the rest of the ship was kept clean by the deckhands, his room remained the lone pigsty. Luthiania stood at the doorway, watching amusedly.

"So…it's _not_ a pirate ship?"

"Again, I think it will be clear when they come closer. But they haven't raised any flags for halt, and it's coming from the east. It might be a cargo ship."

"It _might _be?" America questioned, knocking over a stack of books that looked unread.

"Like I said before, it's too far to tell. I've never seen anything like it before."

The thought of a ghost ship sent shivers down America's back. What an exciting first day on the job! Finally wrapping his fingers around the slender looking glass his principle had given him on his graduation day, America held it up and started toward the deck again. "I'm going to check this out, Lithuania! Never fear!"

Sighing to himself, Lithuania followed America as the blonde captain rushed onto deck and spotted a group of the crew members standing and staring out at the ocean. "Admiral!" one tiny deckhand, Sealand, called. "There's a ship coming our way!"

"That was fast!" Lithuania said worriedly, more to himself than to America. America, on the other hand, clapped him on the shoulder and rushed forward. "It shouldn't be anything serious," he assured. "Let me look!"

Aiming his telescope out at sea, he spotted the black ship, surging forward in the water, sending white, foamy spray in its trail. It was a strangely colorless boat, with only black to adorn its sides. There was someone standing at the bow, almost in the same fashion that he had only a few moments before. America couldn't make out the details, but it was a lanky figure, probably a few inches shorter than him with a mess of dirty blonde hair. There were a few crew members behind said person and they all seemed to pointing at his ship. America scanned the rest of the ship…sturdy frame…then the telescope aimed at the flag that Lithuania had mentioned.

Uh-oh, trouble. It was a black rectangular cloth with a crudely drawn skull and crossbones.

"Pirate ship!" America gasped loudly, causing a tremor of unease through the crew next to him. Sealand mimicked his loud intake of breath and clutched at Lithuania, who put one arm around the small boy protectively.

"What should we do?" a voice shouted. "Ready for battle?"

"Hmm…" America scanned the boat again. It seemed to be in a hurry and expressed no interest in the ship it was nearing. By now they were a good ten miles or so away and hadn't raised any warnings or flags. America put the looking glass and turned to his crew. "Well, it doesn't seem like it wants to board, but we must be careful! Someone steer the ship forward! It's coming at an alarming pace!"

At once, motion set the boat on fire, with crew members scurrying to do their jobs. Lithuania stood at the ready with Sealand clutching at his side as America kept watch on the advancing ship. "America, sir…what should we do?"

"Well…I _would _say we attack it and bring those pirates down, but you say you haven't seen it before and you have good knowledge on all famous pirate ships. And technically, we would be bullying them since they haven't done anything wrong…" America trailed off thoughtfully. "A hero won't pick on someone who hasn't done anything wrong, no matter what they seem to be."

"America…" Sealand whined. "What if they attack us?"

"Then we attack back! Are the gunners below deck at the ready?"

Sealand went to check and ran back breathlessly. "They're waiting for a sign, America!"

"Good." The ship started forward as steam engine propelled them forward. However, although they were surging forward, it was obvious that they wouldn't be fast enough because the other ship was gaining and fast.

"America…!" Lithuania called, almost losing voice and leaving out the respectable 'sir'. "We're going to crash…!"

America grimaced as he turned to his crew. "Can't we go faster?"

"Sorry!" someone called. "This is as fast as we can get it to go at the moment!"

"Dammit!" America punched the side of his ship. How could the other captain of the ship lose control of his own vessel and not put up a word of warning…or…

Realization dawned on America as he stared out at the black ship, now a mere few miles away. The ship wasn't much larger than the Hero U.S, but if they collided, it meant sure death for both crews. The character at the stern was still standing there, staring out at the boat without so much as a sign of anxiety. Glaring at the person, as if the latter could see him, America ground out the explanation. "They're playing chicken," he spat.

"Eh?!" Sealand ran to the side and stared out at the ship. "Can we steer away fast enough?"

"Yes, America, sir, I think we could avoid them if…"

"No." America looked stoic before a smile started sliding across his face. "If this is how they want to play, we'll play with them. This ship isn't going to back down. We've got the crest of the Allies so they know who we are."

"But America, sir…!"

"The question, Sealand, is if _they _can steer away fast enough." America leaned against the side and smirked. Perhaps it was stubborn men's pride, but he was going to show this pirate ship that an Ally ship couldn't be bullied around. Maybe the other ship would let the crash collision happen, but America was willing to bet it wasn't going to happen. After all, no smart pirate would let all their loot go to waste at the bottom of the ocean.

Almost, as if to prove that point, the ship started to swerve to the left. The crew of Hero U.S shouted in relief as the black ship started to change directions. However, it was close enough for America to catch sight of the character from the stern, the blonde young man who was now glaring at him with blazing green eyes. The pirate was dressed rather nicely with a black hat adorned with frills. America didn't know pirates liked frills.

"You bloody git!" America could hear him call with a strange accent. "You'll regret not moving!" To add a physical punch, the ship finished its turn of almost ninety degrees and sent a wave crashing into the Hero U.S, which rocked unsteadily for a few moments before continuing along. The black ship seemed to speed away and America could almost feel the curses hitting his back from the green eyed pirate.

"We win," America said shortly as Sealand cheered. "Because, of course, we're heroes."

--

If looks could kill, that stupid glasses blonde wanker would be dead as a doorknob.

"England, are you okay?"

"Does it look like I am? Leave me alone!" England crossed the deck, his green eyes still icy from the encounter. "Stupid Allies ship…thinking they can run this ocean when they know we work along these routes…"

"England, I don't think that Allies ship is a usual. It might be new."

"Damn right it's new, you idiot." England stormed past his two co-captains, who followed at their own pace as the angry captain stormed to his quarters. "If I ever see that four-eyes again, I swear I'm going to kill him dead." Taking off his hat, England threw it at one of his followers, who caught the lace-decorated hat and placed it on the hook outside England's room.

"Don't just stand there!" England turned to the two as he reached for the doorknob. "Make sure we don't have any more idiots in our path or we won't be as generous to them this time. I knew we should have just blasted that thing to smithereens." Still muttering to himself, England slammed the door behind him.

--

Although America hadn't shown it, he had almost had a heart attack until the pirate ship pulled away. Resting on top of his bed which was covered with his clothes, America decided he would just have to find some way to get back the years he had just lost.

"America, sir!" Lithuania was pounding at his door again. "There's another ship!"

"Another one?" America yelped, jumping to his feet and opening the door. Lithuania, who was already growing worry lines despite his young age, was frantically gesturing to the west. "It's coming at us!"

"Is it the same pirate ship?"

"It's not a pirate ship. It's got a Balkan flag."

Breathing a sigh of relief, America let himself breathe easy. "Well…Balkans aren't any danger…"

"It's pulling up close to us!" Lithuania seemed beside himself in panic, his dark red-brown hair flying across his face.

"Alright, alright! If you're so worried about it, have Sealand throw up the flag to board them."

When America finally reemerged after cooling himself down from the second threat (he was thinking he was getting enough of the admiral life), the Balkan ship had pulled alongside the Hero U.S and planks were being put across the two ships. The other ship's crew was standing at their own end, as if waiting for something. America realized he had been the one to send up the flag and beckoned for Lithuania to follow him across. When he reached the Balkan ship, a man pushed through to the front of the crowd.

"Ah! _Hola, amigo_!" The dark haired man came forward cheerfully with his arms spread out wide in a peaceful gesture. He wore a red silk cape across his shoulders and he looked like a matador that America had seen pictures of in his textbooks. The only thing missing was a rabid bull charging at them. Stepping back cautiously, America extended a hand out. "Hello, Admiral America at your service. Who are you?"

Not seemingly insulted at this brash way of introduction, the man only grinned wider. "You must be a new face on these seas! Some call me Captain Antonia, but people mostly call me Spain! I was surprised you wanted to board our ship, are you having any sort of trouble?"

"So you're not here to wreck havoc?"

"Of course not! Why would we want to?" Spain looked worried for a moment. "Did you have some sort of trouble?"

"Well…not really…" Seeing no danger, America became friendly again. "We just had a run in with some pirates, that's all. But we're fine."

"You look fine," Spain said with a grin. "But could you keep this meeting short? We must be on our way."

"Ah? And where are you going?"

Spain looked to the horizon with a determined expression. "I, my dear America, am out to save a princess in a tower."

There was a silence on deck in which Spain's crew seemed embarrassed and Lithuania wondered if America would burst out laughing. However, America only proved to look even more impressed.

"That's extremely heroic of you, Spain."

"_Gracias._ So we will be on our way, yes?"

"Of course, of course…" As America made his way to the planks, he cast a look behind him at the majestic Balkan ship. It was nicely furnished and looked pretty pricey, not to mention the cannons poking out of the sides seemed well kept. It would be a formidable force.

"Say, Spain," America said, whipping around and changing direction so he was walking toward the retreating captain. "What say we whip up an alliance? I'm a new admiral for the Allies and it would be a pleasure to work along side of you. What do you say? I'm a champion of justice."

Spain turned with a blank look but America kept his expectant smile. After a second, Spain burst out laughing.

"I would think," Spain said, through his chuckles, "that a champion of justice would go well with the country of passion? I don't know you quite well yet, America, but you seem like a nice fellow." America opened his mouth to offer to write up an agreement right then and there, but Spain wasn't finished. "However, if you interfere with any of my business or happen to screw up any of my missions, please know that that will not be taken lightly and we _will_ attack you."

"Likewise, Spain, likewise." America glanced back at Lithuania, who was staring at him expectantly at the plank. "We've all got to look out for our own backs first."

"Big words from someone who wants to form an alliance!" Spain declared. "Alright, let's sign this thing and be on our way. Who will write it for us?"

"Lithuania will. He's quite impartial to everything." America beckoned Lithuania over. "He's only a mercenary I hired, so I don't think he'll care much about either side."

"Splendid. Let's wrap this up, America. I think we both have much to do."

--

Turkey couldn't have put up a screen on the only window, couldn't he? Cheap bastard. Sneezing again, Romano wondered who on earth could be talking about him behind his back. Perhaps it was Turkey himself who had trapped him in this jail, or The Tower. Honestly, this wasn't Rapunzel or any sort of storybook fairy tale, but here he was, sitting on the floor to his one window jail. He still had everything he needed to survive except freedom; Turkey had made sure of that.

Then again, Turkey did like his tales of a thousand and one nights, so perhaps this Tower was the reason after all that. Romano sighed angrily to himself as he walked over to the window. The sandy, grassy landscape under him was not soft enough to jump to and he didn't think he knew the area well enough to know where to go should he have escaped.

Stupid Turkey and his flying carpet.

"Dammit," Romano muttered, drawing out the word. Life had not been good to him lately. In fact, it hadn't been since birth. Being one out of a set of twins, his grandfather Rome had decided that for the sake of their wellbeing and security, they would be separated at birth _and_ live out their respective lives as girls so the question of the male twin heirs of the land would disappear into mystery. Surely no assassin would think that a woman was really one of the male heirs in question. But honestly, sending his twin out to live in a village and keeping him cooped up in dresses and the palace was too much.

Then Turkey kidnapped him, thinking him to be a high lady-in-waiting and held him there for ransom. _And_ his homeland had deserted him. Or at least, had run when Turkey came at them when they tried to rescue him at first.

Useless idiots. Picking at a loose thread on his frock, Romano mused over telling Turkey that he was a male (maybe then that masked pervert would stop coming on to him), but it would probably cause too much trouble and hassle and he was being fed alright (yes, he had pasta! Turkey wasn't entirely heartless after all). And at least he would be away from the creepy suitor that Rome had been keen to marry him off to; that pervert jerk Spain. For a moment, Romano wondered if it had been Spain who had been thinking about him, and a terrifying thought shot through his mind: what if Spain was coming for him? Oh, that would give him nightmares! He wanted to be saved, but not by _Spain…_

He was probably imagining it. After all, Spain was not nearly the man he made himself out to be. Right?

To be continued

--

Note: My _attempt_ at a Hetalia multi-fic…the brainchild of my working imagination after I posed my drawing of Pirate England…but don't fear! Even if this beginning seemed bland, I have some twists! I'm not sure if I can execute them, with my scant knowledge of boats and other sea lingo. Please review so I know how I'm doing…please.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: If Axis Powers Hetalia were mine, I wouldn't need to write fanfics. If any of these songs were mine, I wouldn't be writing fanfics.**

Background music: --

**Minimal fluff 09!**

- Apparently a reader has believed me to be writing a spinoff of another fanfiction, which is a wonderful work of fiction in itself. Because he/she didn't name names, I won't either. However, I have discussed the issue with the author of the story in question. Please be assured that it had all been settled. Thanks for reading! -

--

Of Seamen and Landlubbers 2

Well, he _had been_ asleep…

Romano had been curled up in the sorry excuse for a bed that Turkey had providing him with, wrapped up in the white and sandy colored sheets that warmed his rather smallish frame covered by a white nightgown. Had he the choice, he would have worn something more comfortable, but he didn't have access to much and who knew if Turkey would ambush him in the middle of the night and realize, oh! His prisoner wasn't a girl after all.

But it was beside the point. He had been _sleeping_ quite peacefully when a loud BOOM and a tremor shook the tower.

Sitting up and trying to rub the sleep from his eyes, Romano realized it had not been a dream when another loud BOOM reverberated through the tower and shook the little room so that he nearly fell off the bed onto the Persian carpet.

"What the hell?" Crawling out from the sheets, Romano glanced around the room. So far so good…nothing seemed amiss, except perhaps the mirror on the dresser which was shaking ever so slightly. Gathering an oversized shawl across his shoulders, Romano walked over to the window to see what the hell was going on that woke him at too early in the morning.

He figured it was a wrong move when there was another loud explosion and the tower shook even more dangerously than before and if he hadn't been holding on to the ledge, he would have fallen out. The smell of gunpowder in the air alerted him that bombs or some sort of explosive was being used. There was a small crowd that gathered a distance away from the window, all wearing what seemed to be red armor.

"Oy! What the hell are you doing?!" Romano's words were drowned out by another loud boom and the tower was beginning to teeter. Someone was trying to blow up the tower! "Hey! Don't you know I'm here?" However, a cloud of dust blew up at the same moment from a blast from the foot of the tower and he stumbled back to cough.

"Hey, princess, you 'right?" Romano dared to open his eyes, stinging them with the dust as he did so, to glare at Turkey, who had flown up to him in his magic carpet. Damn Arabian spells…and who would wear a mask twenty-four-seven? Ah well, such things didn't matter to Romano; his safety came first. "If you're going to protect me, you stupid Turkey, why don't you stop these hooligans from blowing up the tower?"

"That's why I'm here!" the masked country protested with a frown. Without another word, he swooped down at the small army. His neglect to bring reinforcements led to his doom as various sticks and stones were hurled at him, finalized by a rather large bolder which knocked him into the sand and he became still.

"Useless idiot," Romano muttered. He should have just hopped the carpet and flown to safety. Now he was condemned to a violent, explosive death – that, or he would be buried in the rubble. What a horrible way to die.

There was another crash and the tower started to lean forward. Romano was about to walk back to the bed and decide to take his death gracefully…

What?! It wouldn't be him to accept defeat this easily! Feeling an anger surge through him, a combination of contempt for his feminine life, his imprisonment by Turkey, and basic indifference from the world, he ran at the window and leaned out. "Stop blowing up the goddamn tower!" he yelled when the dust settled. There was a silence that settled on the plains, not broken even by the flying carpet floating away without its owner, still lying lifeless on the sand. There seemed to be a time when the mob was just staring up at him as if they had just realized that there was a window…then…

The tower started tipping, slowly at first, before almost becoming completely snapped in half. There was a jolt and the tower did in fact break; however, the explosives had only settled in blowing away a chunk of the tower and Romano felt the building beneath him groan as it leaned forward and he felt himself lean out the window. With a yell, he reached for the ledge and narrowly grabbed it before falling to an surely instant death.

There was suddenly a loud shout from the mob and a few members of the mob ran forward. The tower had stopped moving but it was a good degree from the ground and Romano was sure he didn't have the energy to crawl back through the window. Not to mention that if he crawled through the window, he would basically be crawling back into sudden death as well. Hanging by his fingertips, he watched as the tiny figures converged below him, ready to catch him should he fall.

_Those perverts must be trying to see up this dress_! It was an agitating thought and when Romano swung down an arm to try and retain some decency, he lost hold from the other hand and tumbled from the window. The ground was coming up fast and Romano closed his eyes, willing the person to catch him be strong enough so he didn't have to break his neck to escape.

Strong arms caught him before he had time to complete his wish. They were an unusually comforting relief, as he hadn't had bodily contact with another human being for a few months. It was a welcome feeling. Opening his eyes and readying himself to thank the savior and be on his way, Romano was not ready for this next surprise.

"Spain!"

"Caught you!" A relieved smile crossed Spain's face, his dark eyes glittering. The paralysis that came with the shock instantly drifted away and Romano struggled to get out of the bridal carry that Spain had him in.

"Spain, dammit! Don't try and feel me up!" Spain hadn't been doing so, so he had justification in the confused look that appeared as Romano leapt from his arms. Swallowing the gratification that had come so easily before, Romano faced Spain and the small army that had come. "What the hell were you trying to do?"

"Oh." Spain turned to the men behind him. "We were sent to save you from Turkey. We heard the Tower doesn't have any doors so we decided the only way to save you was to knock the tower down."

"By blowing it up with me still in it?" Romano crossed his arms and a familiar glare plastered itself on his face. "You're still as inconsiderate as always."

Laughing, Spain brushed the remaining gunpowder from his face. "Well, as long as you're save and sound, I'm happy. Alright, head out men!" His crew behind him started back on their long trek to the nearest town, where they had stopped to get provisions. There, they would rest up again to hitch a ride on a caravan back to the port town they had stopped in. Spain turned back to Romano and held out a hand to help the barefooted young man across the sand.

"Wait, where are we going?"

"Back home, of course."

"No!" The loud voice that had halted the army before rang through the air and stopped them again in their tracks. All pairs of eyes turned back to the area under the now still tower where their captain and his damsel in distress were standing. "I'm not going back there! And you're not making me."

"Don't be difficult, Romano. Your grandfather is worried sick about you."

"Then let him be! I'm tired of living in that damn palace and wearing these stupid dresses." Taking a hold of the nightgown, Romano ripped the gauzy fabric. While the rest of the army decently looked away, Spain kept looking on as the white nightgown fell away to reveal a white undershirt and brown, army pants. "Heads up, Spain, I'm not a girl! I'm not the frilly little fiancée you want to get hitched to! And I'm not going back to a life where I have to pretend to be something I don't want to be!" Nodding in a 'so-there' fashion, Romano was a tad miffed when Spain didn't seem too fazed by this revelation.

"Romano, if you don't go back, where will you go?"

Almost sputtering over his disbelief, Romano finally managed words. "What's wrong with you? Aren't you at all surprised that I'm a guy? After all, you've come on to me so many times when Rome tried to set us up!" His disbelief became almost palpable but Spain shrugged.

"I kind of knew, I guess," he said offhandedly as his army decided to leave the arguing pair and set off to the village, a good hour's walk away. They suspected Spain would join them, probably dragging a protesting Romano with him anyway. Romano's mouth fell open.

"You _knew_? How could you ever know?"

"Well…" Scratching his chin and looking off in the distance, Spain's face flushed a bit in his proclamation. "I caught you when you were changing once."

He really couldn't be handling any more unpleasant surprises. Picking up a handful of sand, Romano threw it in Spain's face. "You pervert! What if I had been a girl? You tactless bastard!"

"Well, it was good that you weren't, then!"

"How long have you known? Who have you told?"

"I thought that if Rome didn't tell me, then he didn't want me to know, so I didn't tell anyone. And it wasn't like I was going to say anything during that winter formal…"

"You knew since then?" His head was spinning with this new information. "But…all this time…"

"It's not going to kill me to play the part, Romano," Spain broke in. "And who says I can't like you for who you are instead of what you are?"

"Because it's not realistic! Whatever. I don't really care right now. All I'm saying is that you're not dragging me back to the palace. I'm not going back there. If you force me to go back, I'll bite my tongue. I'll die right in front of you."

"Hey, there's no need to get all hasty," Spain said quickly, taking a step forward as if Romano was taking a blade to his skin. "Well, I can't just let you wander around by yourself. You're still of royal blood, after all."

"Don't remind me," Romano spat.

"Rome would kill me if I left you alone…" Spain paused. "Then what about this, Romano? Why don't you join my crew? The _Valiente_? I can't let you be a permanent addition, but I can let you stay as long as I'm allowed. Is that okay?"

Romano grimaced. He could find better ways of spending his freedom than with Spain on a boat. But with the lack of choices, he really didn't have any alternative. He really didn't want to but it was the only route to go on at the moment. Throwing his chin up, Romano held out his hand. "_Fine_. Okay? _Fine_. I'll be part of your crummy crew. Touch me inappropriately and I'll throw you overboard, okay, captain?"

Spain grinned as he took Romano's hand and shook it. "Then we have an agreement, _camarada_. Welcome aboard."

--

Even if he wasn't choosing his steps carefully, he was sure he would make his way soundlessly through the ruins. A ninja was trained in the art of sneaking around and he was the best of his team. Japan sidestepped an overturned pillar and continued his way through the wasteland to the temple. The sun blared overhead, casting dark shadows all over the plain. It would have been just as easy to dart from shadow to shadow, but this meeting was vital and he wanted to show himself off as someone trustworthy.

He had never thought he would have to propose an alliance with Greece before. Sure, they had worked together before, but neither had to lean on the other for aid. Both had their pride and the reliance from their homeland to do such a thing. But times had changed and the East needed help. China would have come with him, but he was…ah…

A bit too intoxicated to come at the moment.

The shadows of the temple hit coolly like walking into an air continued building on a humid day. Padding softly across the marble floor, Japan made his way into the deep recesses of the old place, glancing around at the salvaged statues around him. Greece was sitting in front of the huge statue of a Greek god, staring up at the well polished artifact that he had resurfaced. He didn't turn when Japan entered, but he spoke still the same. "Hello, Japan. I didn't think you'd come visit me today."

Japan glanced at a movement and saw a pair of glowing eyes in the shadows. Figures Greece's many cats would catch his arrival. "Sorry for the inconvenience."

"What did you come here for?"

Japan stared at Greece's back, at the cap that was sliding off the curly brown locks of hair. For a moment, Japan considered walking forward and sliding the cap back on top of the latter's head but watched the hat fall onto the floor. At the absence of an answer, Greece, turned to meet Japan's eyes.

"I'd...no, _we'd_ like to form an alliance with you, Greece-san. China and I."

"An alliance for what?"

"Against the pirates. They've been harassing our shores and taking citizens by the storm. They have _that_, I'm sure you're aware of."

Greece nodded briefly. A cat somewhere howled loneliness through the empty temple.

"So I would like to request your help in disposing these villains."

"You know as well as I do that no one agrees to help without something in return."

Japan was silent. Greece was not talking about help during troubled times or friendships; there needed to be solid payment. The home front was impoverished and Japan hadn't come with anything at all. He _couldn't_ come with anything. Lowering his eyes, he loosened and pulled at the collar of his uniform until it came undone and slid down past his shoulders, exposing ghostly white skin. "I was prepared for this," he said quietly, walking up to Greece, who welcomed him with open arms.

His cats had trained him until he was as skilled at scents as they were, and Greece could smell an exotic spice as he kissed the nape of Japan's neck, pulling at the dark fabric. Skinny arms circled his neck and Greece could hear Japan's soft breathing in his ear and he kissed at the latter's heartbeat at his chest, taking time to enjoy the taste of delicate, phosphorescent skin. "I've always wanted to do this," he murmured as Japan clutched at him.

"We have a deadline, so I'll make this fast."

--

America gulped and wiped his damp hands on his coat for the fifteenth time again. His boss had called him in to give him a rundown on the first day on the job. After all, the admiral of the high seas had a very important job as justice keeper on the seas. Lithuania stood at the door, a distance away.

"So how were our precious oceans?"

"They were fine, sir. Clean and beautiful as always." America almost choked over his words. He had never talked to the boss before. He had always heard of him, commanding and hopeful, who did his best to bring his country out of instability into better times. A black and white puppy, a new addition to his boss's family, sat at attention. America smiled at it and it stared back at him.

"Any trouble? Any whatsoever?"

"No, sir," America mumbled. It wasn't really a lie; he hadn't had a run-in with the pirates exactly… "None, whatsoever."

"Excellent. I called you here for another reason, however, Admiral."

"What might that be, sir?"

"I don't know if you are aware, but the oceans are facing a rather dire crisis in the East. It is your duty to aid our brothers and sisters across the world. They are facing a rather…pirating problem."

"Pirates?" America didn't know if he heard correctly. He saw out of the corner of his eye Lithuania twitch, but he couldn't be sure. "In the East?"

"Yes…it's a rather recent issue, however. It's a one-boat gang. Big black boat, skull and crossbones. It was sighted in the area lately, so I had wondered if you had seen it."

"No, sir, we haven't." America didn't know if he was speaking loud enough anymore, but the boss didn't seem to notice.

"Anyway, it's being run by a rogue from the allies. Apparently the pirates have something that subdues the people, because we received word that China has been taken out and Japan has disappeared. Incidentally, the word we received was a plea for help. America, I think you know what this means."

"Yes, sir," America said, brightening. "We need to spread justice to the East."

"That's right. I trust you to do a good job, America. You're the Admiral, after all."

"Yes, sir. I won't disappoint you." Bowing, America turned and headed for the door, catching Lithuania's eye. The young man kept his air of indifference but America could see panic starting to show. Nodding shortly, America walked through the doors Lithuania held open before his right hand man followed him out.

To be continued

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Note: Tut, tut pervert Spain, you! Hopefully this chapter gave you some ideas to where the whole thing is going. I'm being stalked by a balloon right now, so please review while I cower in the corner.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: If Axis Powers Hetalia were mine, I wouldn't need to write fanfics. If any of these songs were mine, I wouldn't be writing fanfics.**

Background music: --

**Minimal fluff 09!**

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Of Seamen and Landlubbers 3

Italy sighed contently as he breathed in deeply the fresh prairie air. It had been a long time since the weather was peaceful like this; rains and flooding had occurred recently but it had all rightened itself out in the end. It had scared the old woman he had been living with, Grandma Sparta, but she had endured and forced him to as well (although quite violently, he noted). But now with the sun shining, he could go outside and hang the laundry (which Sparta washed, as he had let the clothes float away once). Things were back to normal again.

He had been living out here on the outskirts of a pleasant little village for as long as he could remember. No one knew or even had the idea (and sometimes in the midst of such peace, he forgot himself) that he was really one in a set of twin heirs for the Italian peninsula. As he clipped the towels, now blowing lazily in the breeze, to the clothesline, he figured it was better this way. No worries about rebellions or uprisings or other political problems. He was sure nii-chan could supervise it all from the palace. Italy himself had never been to the palace after he had been whisked away, but he had heard stories of its grandeur from the passing by merchants.

"Italy! Get a hold on it, would you? You still need to feed those damn chickens!" Sparta stood in the doorway, with her hands on her hips. It would be obvious to a viewer that these two were different souls; while Sparta preferred pants and a rather manly way of doing things, Italy was gentle and docile-looking in his green dress that Sparta had made him. Sparta had been commissioned by the officer who had taken him to the village when he was younger to take care of him, but to raise him as a female. Sparta had lived her entire life on a don't-ask-don't-tell basis and was happy enough to keep the linguistics to herself. And Italy wasn't a bad housemaid.

"Ah, sorry, Sparta."

Grumbling, the old woman walked back into the house and Italy became carefree again, twisting the wooden pegs in his fingers. The biscotti Sparta made that morning was hard; that woman believed in beating everything she made, be it eggs or dough or meat. Pasta by Sparta usually consisted of tiny fragments of what used to be a noodle. Sighing to himself, Italy continued doing his chore slowly and only looked up when he heard an unfamiliar sound.

A horse was galloping up the dirt road to their house, the only building on the outskirts, where the villagers went to Sparta for training or help in village activities. The two were content to live on the outskirts as loners and had lived that way for a decent amount of time. No one really came to visit and it was even stranger that one would ride a horse to visit as well. Italy dropped one of Sparta's shirts back into the laundry basket as the man rode up and reined in his horse.

Stopping to a trot, the horse breathed out sharply and Italy wondered if it could possibly breathe steam. The man himself looked like he could breathe fire, in fact. Shrinking back, Italy tried to be polite as possible and his voice came out as a squeak. "Hello, can I help you?"

The man stared at him before stopping his horse completely and dismounting. The villagers usually wore burlap clothing or calico dresses, so it was utterly strange to see someone in a rather militaristic uniform. The man had his blonde hair slicked back so it didn't fall in his face and he surveyed the area before walking up to Italy. "Would you be Italy?" he asked in a rather gruff manner.

"Um, yes?"

"So are you or not?" He sounded a bit impatient.

"Y-yes, I am." Italy glanced at house, hoping Sparta was outside to see this so she could stop any violence that might break out but to his disappointment, she was not. She always seemed to be there to catch him in any wrongdoing or bouts of laziness, but whenever she was supposed to be around, she wasn't.

"I have orders to take you back."

Italy blinked. "Orders? From who? And take me back where?"

"Home." The man cleared his throat. "I have orders to take you back," he repeated, "Feliciano."

A jolt of lightning shot through Italy and he dropped the peg he had been holding. As with nii-chan, the two usually went by one name, being called by their other name only at times of crisis; he was called Feliciano, in turn Romano was called by Italy. Willing himself to be calm (and he usually never was), Italy attempted a brave face. "Did something happen to Romano?"

"Your brother had been captured by Turkey, but he had been recovered by Captain Spain." Italy frowned, as he had never really been caught up on the news with his brother since the messenger came few and far between. Last he had heard, Turkey had been menacing the court and Spain was getting ready to marry his brother. So things had changed. "Your brother had requested that you be taken back to the palace, since he has been compromised."

"Compromised?"

"It means someone has discovered his true identity. He wants you to be taken to safety before someone comes after you."

Italy fidgeted and glanced at the house again. This time, Sparta was standing at the doorway, but she did not offer any help or advice. On the contrary, she was standing rather passively, watching the two at a distance. Italy turned back to the messenger.

"Do I have to come with you now?"

"Your brother said to have you back as soon as possible."

"Ve, then we should go." All thoughts about laundry and chores were forgotten. "I don't have much to pack." Truthfully, he had nothing, since everything he owned belonged to Sparta. "May I bid Sparta goodbye first?"

"Take your time," the man said as he nodded curtly and turned back to attend to his horse. Italy rushed back to the doorway.

"Sparta, I…"

"You've got to go, don't you, Italy?"

Italy was taken aback by Sparta's straightforwardness and paused. "I guess I do."

"I knew this day was coming." Sparta sighed. "Thank goodness I trained you well."

If Sparta's idea of good training was withholding food for a week and making him run laps around the village, then he supposed he had been. "I'll miss you, Sparta," Italy said, throwing his arms around the old woman, who hissed and pushed him away.

"You were always too emotional, Italy. You belong where you belong. Your stay here was only temporary. No matter. Whatever you did, I could do better myself." Sparta huffed. "But I guess I'll miss your company. You won't forget this old woman, will you?"

"Of course not! I'll come back when I can, Sparta! I'll bring Romano too!"

"I hope your brother won't be as airheaded as you are."

"I don't think so." The last time he had seen Romano, his brother had made him eat dirt. He wasn't sure he wanted to see him again. Italy nodded before realizing he was crying.

"You emotional little brat! Get on your way, I can't stand your tears. Haven't I told you that real men don't cry? Stop that!" Sparta backhanded him, which caused more tears and the man who had come to look at them in surprise. Italy clutched at his cheek and willed the tears to stop. "Sorry Sparta."

"There you are, always apologizing." Sparta sighed again. "Italy, just get going."

"Alright. Good bye, Sparta." Sparta merely rolled her eyes before rolling up her sleeves and entering the house, this time closing the door behind her. Italy walked back up the path the horse, where it was pawing at the ground anxiously.

"We're going to be riding Berlin back," the man said edgily. "Would you like to change into more…comfortable clothing?" He nodded at the dress Italy was in.

"Ah? Oh, no thank you. I like wearing this. It gives more freedom of movement, I think."

The man shrugged. "Suit yourself, then," he muttered. "My name is Germany, by the way. I'll be escorting you back to the palace."

"Thank you, Germany." After being helped on the stoic man, Italy teetered on the horse and sat awkwardly. He had never ridden a horse before. As it started trotting toward town, Italy struggled to stay upright. "Ah…Germany? How do I balance?"

"You can just hold on to me. It's no problem."

"Ah." Germany, not being a usually touchy-feely kind of person, had meant this as mere holding on to his shoulders, so he was not at all prepared to have Italy wrap his arms around his waist. In fact, for all the years he had been riding, he nearly fell off. The horse seemed to glance back at him, inquiring what the problem was.

"You're a nice person, Germany. I like you." Italy, who had been living with Sparta for so long, had been used to saying frankly what he felt. Germany seemed to stiffen but said nothing.

"Where's Romano now?"

"He's…on the seas. With Spain."

"Spain?" He had heard of Romano's fiancé for a while, but he had never met with him before or even seen him. "How do you know Spain?"

"I was an officer below him. He was the one who sent me after Romano expressed his concern for your safety." Germany urged the horse to go a bit faster, which resulted in Italy tightening his grip around him. "Um…could you possibly not hold on as tightly?"

"Oh, sorry." Romano, who had told him he was nothing more than a little peasant girl who should eat dirt, was worried about him? His own brother? For once, Italy hoped his mean older brother was okay. At least, he hoped that Spain was enough to hold his brother back the next time they met face to face.

--

That damned Turkey. Only playing dead. Romano knew he should have kicked that masked idiot in the face when he followed Spain away from the crumbling tower. Apparently, after they had gone, Turkey had resurfaced, summoned his flying carpet, and spread around that his kidnapped lady was in fact a man; not _just_ any man, but one of the Italy twins! It was dangerous to keep moving around in the open and now that Turkey knew what he looked like, it would only make sense that he would go search out his twin. Spain was doing a decent job hiding him, but he didn't think his idiot little brother would be smart enough to do anything.

He hadn't been wearing much after he ripped his nightgown and Spain had given him some sort of matador cape around his shoulders. He had only mused aloud his concern for his brother's wellbeing and the next second, Spain was saying how he had someone on the job already. Romano didn't know Spain's influence was so widespread but he wasn't going to complain. At least, not in the position he was in. He had no right to.

Not to say that he wasn't going to, that is.

"Spain, this cape thing is itchy. Dammit, don't you have something that's a hundred percent cotton or something?" Scratching at the furry collar, Romano glared at Spain.

"I probably have something on the boat," Spain shrugged. They had been riding on a camel caravan for two days now and they were approaching the port city that Spain had stopped in. The rest of the crew let the two have a camel to themselves, noting the relations between the two.

"Your boat's not leaky, is it?"

Spain laughed. "You can do an inspection when you get aboard, Romano." It had been an offer that Romano took up and he spent an hour searching every inch of board on the ship and refused to let the crew sail off until he was satisfied. When he returned to Spain's quarters to say that the search came out satisfactory and they could leave, Spain thrust a pile of clothes in his arms.

"Here. They might be a bit big, since you're smaller than me, but these are from when I was younger. They'll look good on you."

"Hand-me-downs."

"Romano, don't complain. If you want new clothing, I can take you back to the palace right now."

"Alright, alright, I'll wear it, don't get your boxers in a knot," Romano huffed. Throwing the clothes onto a chair and untying the cape from his shoulders, he looked up and realized Spain was still in the room. "Well? Aren't you going to tell your crew you can set out now?"

"They know." To support this, the ground beneath them shook as they left the port and soon the boat bobbed along happily. Romano kept his glare as he threw the cape onto the bed.

"What are you still doing here? Surely you're not planning on watching me change, you pervert."

Flushing, Spain shrugged. "Well, we _are_ going to get married sooner or later…"

"I'm not marrying you! In your dreams! Get out of here!" Pushing Spain out of his own room, Romano slammed the door behind him. "Just because I'm in your care doesn't mean you can control me, you bastard!"

Spain laughed from behind the door. "Take your time, Romano."

--

The seas had been peaceful as of late. Well, in peaceful, England meant it was free from nosy mariners, like that god-awful admiral they had run into a while ago. He wasn't one to complain, though; he had been able to come and go from the east as he pleased and he wasn't going to let fate ruin the budding business he was running. Sighing to himself as he stared down at the foamy spray coming up at his face, England mused over his current predicament. Apparently he was wanted by the law now, although that stupid government body hadn't been able to pinpoint an exact crime he was committing. To compensate, they were picturing him out to be a lecherous mass murderer when in fact he didn't have any blood on his hands. He supposed it was all in the live of the misunderstood. He had been misunderstood before.

"England…we're almost there."

England turned to the meek young man who spoke. Canada, one of his co-captains who usually was the one to carry his belongings, was someone who rarely stood out and even England lost him once when they had landed at a busy port. He often took what came at him with silence and was usually mocked by the rest of the crew for turning the other cheek. Staying to himself and content with his status, England figured he needed one of these kinds of people at his side. At least when the going got tough, he could probably depend on Canada to stick with him and not get distracted by the lure of power. There had been many chances for Canada to up-one him but he never did and England knew it would stay that way.

"Oh, thank you."

Canada nodded and skirted back to his post. The reclusive young man had a pet bear, and although this might turn other ship captains off, Canada's bear was an easy going sort of creature, who spent its days lazing around Canada's room and eating the leftovers the blonde left for him. England figured the bear wasn't so much a protector than a friend, although it seemed to always have amnesia when Canada talked to it and tended to ignore his master. It didn't cause any trouble at all so England didn't quite mind it on board as long as it stayed out of sight and mind.

Of course, not everyone in his crew was as agreeable as Canada…

"Oy, my dear England, are we on schedule?" The reedy sing-songy voice seemed to come from nowhere and before England could suppress his urge to punch whoever was closest to him, his second co-pilot appeared out of thin air, smelling like food and roses. France, that slimy git with his fancy hair and flashy clothing, was one choice of captain that England hated but couldn't regret making. Yes, although France annoyed him out of his mind, that man could be stronger than he looked and was a great assent. And anyway, back home, they had mused that they would have been the greatest of rivals so England decided to bite the bullet and try for an alliance instead. He had a hard time coping with it.

"Yes, France, now stop touching me." The man also had an annoying habit of groping you as a greeting. England tended to be pretty harsh about it so France usually picked on the one who didn't put up much of a fuss; it tended to be Canada. England pitied his other co-pilot, but what can you do?

"I was thinking, _Angleterre_, that it was strange this time that our friends in the east decided to change ports to dock in. Don't you find that funny?"

"It's more convenient for them. Why are you so picky, France? We have no use for _it_, so if they're going to take it off my back, I'll bend over backwards to."

"Nee, England, you're all in it for the money."

England smirked. "Don't tell me money doesn't interest you, France."

France smirked back and threw his arms out. "Money makes the world spin, England. There's no denying that." Laughing lightly, France pulled out of the lighthearted mood. "In more serious terms, have you been giving the cook cooking lessons? Lately the food tastes like the crap you make."

"You _have_ been eating the crap I make. The cook fell ill a few days ago. He should be fine."

"_Qu'est-ce que c'est?!"_ France's voice grew to dramatic heights as England rolled his eyes and turned his back on the wailing man. "Why didn't you tell me sooner? I could have saved the whole crew from deathly stomach pains!"

"Sod off, France."

Sulking, France walked next to England. "But really, England, to be serious here…I'm frankly worried about this change of plans. We've been docking in Hong Kong for so long that I already know every contour of that boy's body…"

"Perverted as that sounds, France, I don't see your point."

"I'm just saying. They're moving the port to a more inland, inaccessible place than before. It's hard to get into, and it's going to be a tough time trying to get out."

"You're not steering so shut up. I don't see the issue."

"The issue," France said, raising his voice and England could hear the frustration apparent. This was no time for fun and games and France was being utterly serious, a phase he rarely got into. "The issue," he repeated, "is that this seems like a set-up."

England stared at him. "France, you know China and Japan as well as I do, doing business with them. They are in no position to sabotage us, if that's what you're implying at. They have no means to. And you know what _I'm_ implying."

"Yes, but…" France struggled to find justification. "I have a bad feeling, England. I think we should call it off until we have access to Hong Kong again."

"France, please don't spread your perverseness."

France huffed. "Oh please, England. Unlike you, I could have my pick with any of the crew members here."

England merely rolled his eyes but France continued.

"I mean, take Canada for example. Oy! Canada!" France beckoned the surprised young man over, who came around slowly. The moment Canada was at arm's length, France grabbed him and subsequently groped him, earning him a startled gasp from the captain in his grip.

"Canada, you should know by now that you should never listen to France," England said offhandedly. He wasn't really surprised by this public display; France seemed to like groping Canada anyway. Ignoring the two struggling behind him, England blinked as the port city came in view.

He was…disappointed.

"This is what Japan wants us to park in?" England sighed. "You might have a point, France. We should just fight our way in."

The port was relatively smaller than Hong Kong's, and it was very shabbily done. There was only three docks, and two were already occupied with equally massive boats. The third empty spot was right in-between the two. A strange apocalyptic feeling struck England and he shook his head to clear it. It was business like usual.

"Does this place seem…I don't know…too run down to be used?" France asked with a frown and one hand on Canada's ass.

"We're here, so we can't complain," England muttered. The ship, the UKB, slowly drifted into the empty lane and threw down the anchor. England surveyed the port, which was deserted except for a few people and China, who was staring listlessly up at him.

"Hey, China!" England waved. "We've got it, so you know what you need to do."

China blinked and he reached his hands out at him as if he was God. "Give it to us, aru!"

England grinned. "Impatient as always, China. Show us the money first."

China turned reluctantly and beckoned for one of the men to come forward. The man stumbled over and held out a box full of silver. England turned to France and Canada for their acceptance and France only nodded curtly. The port was full of silence, which was unusual since Hong Kong had always been a bustling place. Now that England had time to look it over, the houses were even shabbier than usual and the whole place was surrounded by forests.

"Do people really live out here?" England called. "It seems to be a weird place to put a port."

"Japan made it recently," China said, his voice trailing off as his glossy eyes stared up at him. "He made it recently."

"Where is Japan?"

"I don't know, aru."

Canada fidgeted behind him. "England, can we finish this fast? I don't like it here." Canada seemed to be radiating France's caution as well, and this was a feeling that hadn't been tarnished by inappropriate touching; France was now walking up and down the deck to survey the place. England had a strange feeling it was like the calm before the storm and this time, he couldn't shake it.

Breaking the silence was a loud boom and the UKB rocked violently to one side. Holding onto the railing, England didn't bother hiding his surprise. "China! What's going on?"

China seemed as surprised as he was. "Who was that, aru? Who said to attack England?"

There was another loud crash and the boat rocked to the other side. "Draw up the anchor!" England yelled. "We're heading out!"

"You can't go, aru! You haven't given it to us yet!"

"I'm not risking my head if you're going to attack us!" England shouted back as the crew busied itself. "Think twice before trying to take us down with the ship." France's warning echoed unpleasantly in his head. How could this have happened.

"England, look!" Canada pointed to the ship to their right and on the deck was Japan, standing next to Greece. The pieces snapped into place and England turned around just in time to see the other ship fire a round into the UKB.

"Japan!" England called. "If you're going to blow us up, you'll blow the port up with us!"

Japan shrugged. "It's just a temporary port to lure you two in. I didn't want to bring Hong Kong into it."

"Since when were you with an alliance with Greece?"

Japan didn't answer and China attacked him next. "Japan, aru! What's wrong with you? How could you attack England, aru? You can't do this! If England's ship goes down, we won't…"

"Don't give me that!" the ninja spat back. "Don't you think I don't see the way you whimper at England's feet. Don't you have any pride as an Asian state? Open your eyes for once, China!"

The UKB started its slow withdrawal from the port, but not without sustaining massive damages from the blows from both of Greece's ships. England watched in horror as the two ships started to deport as well. If they didn't manage to gain some ground, they would be done for. "Head out now! _Quickly_!"

Greece turned to Japan, still standing next to him. "Should we follow?"

"Only a little," Japan murmured. "They'll get hasty and end up drowning themselves." Although he had managed an alliance with Greece, he found he couldn't look the latter in the eye for too long. Greece seemed to understand.

"Come on men, give a little half-hearted chase! Let them run to their own deaths!"

to be continued

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Note: I'm SO sorry that I haven't updated! Orz But fear not! I have a lot of chapters written during my lapse, so I'll be posting some up soon. But anyway, I hope this makes you somewhat happy…Ita-chan! Feuding Spain/Romano! And Japan's plot! Did that make your heart race? Review if it did!!!


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: If Axis Powers Hetalia were mine, I wouldn't need to write fanfics. If any of these songs were mine, I wouldn't be writing fanfics.**

Background music: --

**Minimal fluff 09!**

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Of Seamen and Landlubbers 4

While they had managed to get somewhat of a headstart, England knew they were on the losing side of the battle. Greece's ships were gaining a good amount of ground every few minutes. Ahead was clear, but they couldn't outrun Greece forever. Sooner or later they would hit land and while trying to maneuver their way around said land, Greece would catch up to them. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

"Canada. Tell France that we've got to use them."

Canada's eyes opened wide behind his glasses. "England, we only have two of them and you know how bad of a shot France is!"

"Fine. Then you shoot them." Canada's shock seemed to grow.

"But England! We only have two of them!"

"Shut up! At this point, we don't have a choice. We have to use the missiles." While all ships, the UKB included, were stocked with cannonballs for cannons, they had managed to pilfer some sharpened missiles from China, where the technology was slowly developing. England had managed to stop him from mass producing, only selling to the UKB, so he was confident that Greece wouldn't be able to use the same weapon at them. Throw as many rounded objects as you like; he was pretty sure he could collapse both ships with the artillery he had.

Canada opened his mouth to object but thought better of it. "Alright, then, but can you slow the ship a bit? I tend to get shaky if we're going too fast."

"Tell France. And be quick about it." Canada may not be one of many words, tending often to talk to Kumajiro the bear, but he was a great shot. England barked further orders to the panicked crew as Canada dashed off below deck. The ship started on a curved course, allowing for Canada to have better range and it pulled back, steering the UKB perpendicular to the two ships coming at them.

BOOM! The UKB rocked with the force of the first shot missile and England smirked satisfactedly as a cloud of flames appeared on the side of one of the ships and even Poseidon seemed to know of its doom as the waves tossed the battered ship about. After a while, the ship gave up chase and fell back as the remaining one surged forward.

"Fire, Canada!" England yelled over the edge, where he knew Canada could hear him. The urgency in his voice didn't seem to help because the explosion occurred too soon for England to be sure of its target. The missile skimmed the side of the remaining ship and disappeared in the distance. The attack hadn't done as much damage as before and England feared that the ship would continue; they had the disadvantage as it would take longer to turn the ship around and speed away. However, the ship seemed to have enough itself for it fell back and stayed bobbing unsteadily as the UKB sailed away.

The crew collapsed in relief and the navigator continued the ship on its escape course as Canada resurfaced, looking utterly bedraggled. England's nerves were frayed and as Canada reached out to see if his captain was alright, the blonde pirate snapped at him. "What's wrong with you? You missed the last one!"

Canada pulled back, looking hurt. "I'm sorry. I got a little jumpy when you called me and…"

"A _little_?" England shot back, glaring at his dazed co-captain. France appeared instantly at Canada's side, sensing conflict.

"England, calm down. Canada did fine. They're not after us anymore. Don't worry about it." France turned to Canada and snaked an arm around the latter's waist. "You did perfect," he simpered, breathing into Canada's ear.

"Ugh, I need a drink," England muttered as he turned away from the writhing couple. "I can't handle anything else today…"

"Captain!" The navigator rushed up to him breathlessly. "There's another ship coming at us!"

"Good god, another one?" England rubbed the space between his eyes before staring frankly at his navigator. "Whose is it?"

The navigator paused, biting his lip before pouring on quickly. "It's the Allied ship from before, captain," he said rushing his words, as if maybe he could escape from the captain's wrath.

Death seemed to flash in those green eyes. "The Allies ship?"

"Yes, and it's given us the signal to stop and let them board."

"Dammit." England's mind wandered to the cargo beneath deck that they hadn't gotten rid of with China. "Out of all the times they decide to check a ship. We already look suspicious with our battle scars and they're bound to do a full-fledged search." England sighed running his hand through his hair, knocking his lacey hat off his head. "Fine. _Fine_. We'll be cordial about it until they go beneath deck. Put on your best acts, men."

The navigator tore off to the cockpit. England turned to Canada and France, who had finally separated. "What do we do now?"

Canada looked frantic. France took a deep breath although England could see the anxiety present. "I _told_ you it was a bad idea this morning, but…"

"I don't need another argument," England interrupted. "Tell the underlings to prepare the cannons. I think we'll need them."

--

A dog only had to look around before finding a stick…or so a proverb goes. America had set out on a search to find the pirate ship and fortunate of fortunes, they had stumbled on the very ship they had been looking for. America had the flag for boarding raised and the ship seemed compliant as it slowed close to them. Grinning heroically, America beckoned for Lithuania and a few other crew members. "Stay here and stand down unless I give you the signal. Sealand, that means you too."

Sealand pouted but fell back as the pirate ship pulled up along side. The Jolly Roger flapped cheerfully overhead, seeming to overtake the colorful Allies flag. Planks connected the two and America nimbly crossed, followed by Lithuania. Jumping onto the UKB, America casually saluted England, who was glaring at him a grudge of epic proportions between France and Canada. "Hello, Admiral America at your service! It looks like you've been up to something, blondie."

The pirate's eye seemed to twitch. "My _name_ is England, thank you very much. We had a minor run-in. Nothing serious. What do you want?"

"I don't think you're in any position to be rude, England. We've got a search warrant for you and your ship." America waved around an official looking document. "You're wanted by my boss and his friends."

"Oh really?"

"That's right. And I, being both Admiral and hero, am going to take all of you into custody and take you all back." America waved his arms to gesture to the rest of the startled UKB crew. With a surprising smirk, he added, "That okay with you?"

England stared at him before a smirk of equal merit appeared on his face. "Oh, right. Of course. An Allies hero. Tell me, mister hero, what have we been doing wrong? Last time I checked, it was completely legal to sail the high seas. What have I done to offend your boss?" England crossed his arms, considering the argument. "You have no merits to your accusation."

America gaped at him. "I didn't think pirates could use big words."

"Oh, I'm a pirate? Says who?" England turned to France. "What have I done that deserves that title? Have I stolen anything? Can you _prove_ anything? Give me that." Crossing the deck to America in three strides, England snatched the warrant from America's hand. Skimming it over, he stared up challengingly at the admiral. "I sound like quite the fairy tale villain, don't I? 'Pillage and rape'? 'Grand thief'? Do you have solid proof that I, England, am the perpetrator for these crimes?"

America blinked. His boss hadn't gone into much detail and Lithuania even admitted he knew little about the UKB. He glanced back at his knowledge specialist and Lithuania shrugged slightly. "Ahem, no…but I'm sure that if you're as innocent as you sound, we can search your boat without much problem."

There was a shift, a slight change that seemed to turn the emerald eyes looking up at him murky. "Alright, then." England turned around and walked over to France and Canada again, crumpling up the arrest warrant as he did so. With a wave of his hand, England had America and his small army surrounded and there was a series of loud splashes as the planks were knocked away. The UKB gave a great lurch and America nearly fell over. France and Canada had drawn pistols and England had turned around again.

"You can search the boat if you can do so in one piece." With a smirk, England raised his hands and the attack began.

Stupid pirates, thinking they were superior with their wimpy little gunpowder guns. After a few rounds, which seemed to rocket all over the place – the tall, sophisticated man didn't seem to be able to aim for his life and the other seemed to be trying to shoot with a trembling hand – America unsheathed his sword. "England!" he called. "On the record, you attacked first!"

"Fine!" the arrogant voice called from the fray and America found himself in a one on three combat with three of the crew members. The owners of the guns had seemed to give up the still clunky weapons and were engaging in swordfight as well. Lithuania wasn't a trained swordsmen but he was quite adept at close combat and was fast enough to save his own life. The pirates were skilled, but unpolished and America wondered if he really was so awesome that he seemed to be beating them single-handedly.

One of the captains had turned to face them and in the midst of flashing steel, America frowned. "Canada? Is that you?"

Canada faltered, suddenly drawing back. He had the misfortune of backing into England, who had heard the whole exchange. "Canada? You know him?"

"I…I don't…" Almost as fast as he had challenged America, Canada disappeared in the mass of bodies again. France was having a go at Lithuania, and both were preoccupied to help their respected captains.

"How about we fight one-on-one? I don't think you need help from your wimpy little crew members?"

England gave a pained smile. "Bring it on, hot stuff. Although don't think you can whine your way to a victory." Drawing his sword almost too fast for America to see, the two engaged in a tense battle that seemed to draw the eyes of all present. America swore sparks flew as England parried an attempt at his life and pushed back with equal gusto. Falling back into stance, America scanned the deck and noticed that most of the pirates were already fallen and his side, the hero side, was obviously the clear winner.

"Give it up, England. You're finished. You can't fend us off single-handedly." England glanced back at the remaining allies he had, which proved only to be one or two of his crew members, France, and Canada, who was refusing to meet his eyes. There was no time for explanation; he'd hear Canada's sob story later. "France!" he barked. "Status of our goods?"

France looked surprised. "I don't know."

"You mean it's not protected?" England growled as he threw down his sword and sprinted below deck. "Take care of this, France. I don't have time to be dealing with wannabes." Passing the artillery deck, he ordered for immediate fire onto the next ship and the level was filled with movement to arm the cannons.

America followed England with his eyes. "Your captain seems to be rather suspicious for an innocent mariner," he mused.

"Hush, little boy, you don't know England." France held his sword in front of him. "Why don't you fight me like a man?" In touch with the mood, a canon sounded beneath them and America heard Sealand's yelp as his ship was under attack. Sighing, he planned his course of action in his head and turned to Lithuania and his remaining men.

"Take care of them, Lithuania," America ordered. "I'll follow the captain."

"Yes, sir." There was a beat before America darted to the stairs and France lunged at him; France was in turn intercepted by Lithuania and Canada had been stopped by more Allies crew members before he could stop America. The excited blonde took the stairs two at a time, ignoring the men arming the canons and darting to the next deck. At the bottom of the boat, America had reached the foot of the stairs just in time to see England reaching for the door of what seemed to be a storage area. "Well, well, what do we have here?"

Turning around so sharply America would have been surprised that he didn't get whiplash, England backed against the door. "France not enough for you?" he snarled, looking like a cat rubbed the wrong way. America made his way around the bags of sugar and other goods in the storage deck until he was only a few feet away from England.

"Care to share what you have hidden in your little room?"

"Go to hell."

"Is that any way to speak to an admiral?"

England looked ready to spit fire. "What's behind this door is my business and none of yours. If you don't get back to your little ship, we're going to decimate it and hold you hostage. Trust me," he said, venom with every word, "we can make it very painful."

America paused. He had always liked a challenge and he hadn't been expecting England to easily give him right of way. The way the pirate looked like he was going to _pounce_…it was all very attractive and America didn't even know he swung that way. No matter. "I'm going to have you under arrest," he said slowly, tightening his grip on his sword, "and I'm going to bring your whole crew under custody. The justice system is fair, and if you're not doing anything wrong, then you should have everything straightened out."

"The justice system is _anything_ but fair," England shot back. "If you give me that bullshit, I'm going to have to kill you." He pulled out a shotgun of his own. "Come closer and I'll blow your brains out."

The next moment seemed preordained; the gods of the seas seemed to have played them like puppets. England raised the gun and America had knocked it out his hand with the flat edge of his sword. His hand stinging, England had pulled back and America shot forward, although neither got the assault each was thinking. America's lips collided almost painfully against England's, catching the pirate by surprise. America _had_ planned a surprise attack in which he would distract England while grabbing for the door but his hands seemed to have a mind on its own and preoccupied with exploring the pirate's body instead of exploring the wall for the doorknob.

Maybe it was pent up emotion, stress from the job. Maybe it was just the adrenaline. Perhaps it was even the strange smelling spice that seemed to fog over his brain. Something, just something, had made him change direction, take another course of action. Pressing the smaller man against the door, America breathed a musky scent of tea and biscuits and England's lips were surprisingly soft for the all the barbs that passed it.

All America knew was that it was over almost the moment it started. His mind might have muddled over but England's seem as sharp as a tack and in the next second, America was the one stepping back and England had taken his sword from his hand and was holding it out at him.

"Get…up those stairs…and never return," England gasped, taking in air from the breath-stealing kiss. "Or I swear I will make sure you never see the sun _again_." There was such force to the order that America felt the need to obey. That, and the canons had been going off for some time and the Hero U.S probably needed to pull back if she wanted to see another day. Turning on his heel, America dashed up the stairs again to the upper deck and spotted Lithuania struggling at the edge. "Get a plank across!" America shouted. "We're retreating."

"Run little children, back to your mothers with your tails in-between your legs," France mocked, but America ignored him as Sealand threw a board across and his crew escaped by the skin of their gums. America was about to clamor across the wobbly plank when there was a gunshot and Sealand cried out; someone had shot at him and the bullet grazed his side. In surprise, the little deckhand dropped the plank, which fell into the ocean below him. Lithuania grabbed the injured boy and escaped below deck. America turned on the shooter with fierce fervor. "What did you do that for? You shot at a _child_!"

England, who had seemed to recover unnaturally fast, held out the smoking revolver at arm's length. "Then he should know not to mess with pirates and sea battles. He's liable to get hurt."

America sputtered before lunging at the pirate captain. "You could have killed him!"

"Then I would have killed him," England said calmly, catching America as he came at him and with strength that the admiral wouldn't have expected, threw him overboard. "Cross my paths again, little admiral, and you won't live to see another day. Have your cheap sword back." America resurfaced from the icy water in time to see his sword plunge into the sea and he swam over to retrieve it. The UKB pulled away, spraying him with a wave of water and America sputtered, struggling to stay afloat.

"America! Here!" A strong coarse rope floated near him and America took hold of it, his other hand clutching at his sword as his teeth chattered. It had nearly been a fatal experience for him and he wouldn't have liked to relive it for the slightest.

He had failed. He had been ordered to arrest the UKB and now here he was, being pulled back onto his own ship by his crew members while watching the criminals get away. This was not how a hero was supposed to act. He had gotten carried away and experimented at the worst time. It had to stay a secret. No one had to know about what happened below deck.

Being pulled over the side, America collapsed on deck as Lithuania gave orders for the admiral to be carried to his room. Little Canada…all grown up now on a pirate ship. Was this what it all came down to?

And England…snappy England with the green eyes and the soft lips…America closed his eyes, willing and successfully expelling the image from his mind. An admiral was to be true to his boss and his country.

For the life of him, he was going to catch those pirates and he was going to protect the goodness of the world. Because if the Admiral of the High Seas didn't, who would?

To be continued

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Note: I think for all who have been waiting so patiently, I should update this soon afterwards. And there's USUK too! Are you happy? It's going to be the most USUK smut for a while…but stick around, because the plot is thickening. Don't you think so? Comments? Reviews? Click that little button below!


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: If Axis Powers Hetalia were mine, I wouldn't need to write fanfics. If any of these songs were mine, I wouldn't be writing fanfics.**

Background music: --

**Minimal fluff 09!**

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Of Seamen and Landlubbers 5

He hadn't been expecting a hero's welcome, but Japan didn't know it would come to this. When he and Greece sailed back to China, the ship was instantly seized by China's army, which had seemed to organize in the little time they had gone. The ship was destroyed instantly while Greece and Japan were separated and interrogated clumsily. In other words, Japan had spent a few hours in a room where China repeated his singular question: "Why?"

"To save us, China. We're falling into ruins if we keep coming into contact with England. You should know that."

"You can't do that. You can't just break us apart," China said desperately. "Did you really think I would let you alienate us from England, aru? He has what we want, Japan. There's no other way to get it."

"We survived all the way until now until it," Japan said steadfastly. "We can do so again."

"You don't understand," China said. His eyes were red and he was shivering. "Do you see what I am without it? Japan…you don't know…you never tried it…I _need_ it. We all need it. you don't understand," he finished lamely. Japan raised his eyebrows. China had prided himself on being a strong older brother and now here he was, shaking uncontrollably in front of his 'little brother'.

"And you…weren't we supposed to be allies?" China asked, changing subjects. "And yet you went off to find an alliance with that Greece. Why Greece?"

"We worked before," Japan said briefly. "We'll work again."

"You're destroying us. The Asian states. You're killing us, Japan."

_You are_, Japan wanted to say. You _don't understand. You're killing us all, China, because you're older than all of us and you should be leading us to victory_. There was nothing he could say to China in this state, and he remained silent.

"I didn't want to do this, Japan, but you've left me no choice. I'm going to have to exile you."

"Where can you put me?" Japan knew for a fact that China didn't have the means to deport him anywhere. A chilling thought ran through his head; surely China wasn't going to ship him off to England? Anywhere but that. China seemed to be trying to think.

"I don't know yet…but somewhere, aru…" China seemed to be perpetually in motion as he quivered more violently so. The next moments came in a blur as Japan was ushered along a long, foreign hallway and thrown into a pitch black cell. The door had a tiny window that gave scant light but it wasn't enough to distinguish anything. China had frisked him before and he didn't have any access to anything that could help him break out. Feeling his way against the grimy walls, Japan slid down to the floor, which seemed to be made out of age-old stone.

Even if he wanted to, he couldn't stop the tears from coming. Having been carefully trained in the art of silence, the sobs came out soundless and Japan rubbed his eyes against his gloves. All he had wanted to was to discourage England from coming again and showing China the light. He hadn't gotten anything across; England was sure to come again if China begged him enough and proved that he had thrown the little problem in the slammer. He was the only one with a clear mind at the time and he was put in a place where he couldn't even do anything. Things had quickly gotten from bad to worse.

"Don't rub your eyes, they'll get red."

Japan jumped but neither could notice in the darkness. The voice echoed in the cell and Japan's eyes had adjusted enough to see a faint outline of a man on the opposite side of the wall. "Greece," Japan said, almost whispered. He couldn't find his voice in the darkness.

"Ah, if only they'd give me one cat, I'd be happy." Japan rubbed his eyes again, finding comfort in the familiar favorites of Greece. "I hope someone remembers to feed my cats."

"They might have drowned," Japan said quietly, remembering the way the ship sank into the harbor as they used explosives to down the boat.

"Nonsense, my cats can swim." There was a pause. "How long are they going to hold us here?"

"I don't know. I don't…" Feeling utterly hopeless in the darkness, Japan rested his head in his arms. "I'm sorry. You got into this because I dragged you into an alliance, Greece-san. If you hadn't helped me, you wouldn't be in this problem."

"I think you paid for more than just this that time," Greece replied, trailing off. "Are you sure you're going to stay over there? It gets a bit nippy at night."

"I'm fine."

Greece sighed, his breath echoing off the stone walls again. "It's going to be alright," he said, almost to himself. "Greek men have taken more than this and lived and you're a lot more resilient than you think, Japan. I mean, look at how things have been going for you and you're okay…" He trailed off again as he watched the small frame across from him. "Japan, if you're crying, I'm sure it will feel better if you had a shoulder to cry on." Reaching forward to pull the ninja toward him, Greece held him comfortingly despite half-hearted struggling.

It was a good thing it was so dark, Japan though, as his face was reaching high temperatures and no decent ninja would be caught in such a compromising situation. "I just wanted to help," he mumbled, sinking into the comforting warmth. He fit perfectly in Greece's embrace, almost as if he was made to be there. "I didn't want to cause more problems…"

"Don't think about things like that. We're going to be fine." Greece yawned. "I haven't napped today. Would you like to nap with me?" As if a nap was the most ordinary thing in the world they would do in a pitch dark cell. It didn't seem at all productive but in their situation, they really couldn't do anything at all. Japan nestled closer, a small part of him feeling oddly content.

"I'd like that."

--

They had covered a considerable amount of ground. Personally, Germany would have gotten a faster means of transportation, but that would draw attention to themselves and attention was the last thing the elusive twin heirs needed. Presently, they were traveling at a slow trot as Berlin carried them down the cobbled road, Italy dozing off against him. The coast was clear; there were no enemies about…which meant Germany had quiet time with his thoughts. Which were not quiet at all.

He was supposed to be ushering Italy to the palace! He wasn't supposed to be succumbing to the still simple-minded young man's whims! He wasn't supposed to be lured in by the cute charms and he _definitely_ wasn't supposed to agree when Italy stood at the doorway last night in the little inn they stayed in and asked him to sleep with him (_Relax_, nothing happened!). While Germany was quite confident that he wasn't…what was the word…ah, yes, falling for the young heir, he really wasn't supposed to be getting attached to him either. A guard is supposed to be impartial and only thinking about risking his life for the protected.

This would not do at all. He would hurry along, deposit the scatterbrained heir at the palace, and join Spain again at the seas. He would never have to see Italy again and

There was a small yawn and Italy's arms snaked around him again. "Vee…Germany, are we there yet?" The two were supposed to be taking an inconspicuous boat back to the palace on the peninsula, and they were heading off to the port as they spoke. Germany cleared his throat.

"Ah, yes, we're almost there."

"Mmm." Italy rubbed his face against Germany's back. "You're warm, Germany."

See what he meant?! Germany had tried to tell Italy his concerns but the latter had only looked at him with a look of utter incomprehension on his face. Italy had then gone on to explain that living with Sparta meant that he was used to being simple and blunt, as Sparta usually wouldn't understand what he was going at if he hinted anything at all. Germany supposed that he really couldn't do anything about that, as Italy had been living with that kind of personality for years. He would have to stay steadfast and be as professional as possible.

"Er, Italy," Germany began. "I noticed you like to hug people." Indeed, everyone they had come in contact with, Italy had hugged them all and was quite fluent in every kind of small talk and mingling imaginable. Germany, being a man of little words, had let the talkative Italian do all the talking, butting in as soon as Italy started shooting off his mouth about things he ought not to.

"Hmm, I like hugging people." Italy sounded thoughtful as he stared out at the fields they were passing. "I like showing people that I like them. I think people would be happier if they knew people cared for them and they wouldn't go out and do bad things. Eh…that's what I think, anyway. Germany doesn't like it?" Italy faltered and his arms loosened around Germany's waist.

"Not particularly," Germany replied rather untactfully. Italy withdraw contact and Berlin sensed anxiousness and started becoming skittish. Quickly gaining control of his horse again, Germany reached back and stabilized Italy before he could fall off. "Hold on to me, Italy, or you're going to hurt yourself."

"But…but you said you didn't like it…"

"It doesn't matter if I like it or not. You're going to fall off if you don't hold on. So hold on." Italy reached around and grasped Germany again.

"I like it this way, anyway," Italy murmured.

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing!"

--

Spain had expected Romano to be uneducated in the ways of a ship, but he didn't expect the heir to be completely clueless. He couldn't even tie knots.

"Why would I need to tie ropes together? Why don't you just buy things that are already connected? Or use buttons." The crewhands had already given up trying to teach him anything and were trying to avoid him altogether. The cook had already been harassed a great deal by him and had requested a lock on the kitchen door. Fearing a mutiny, Spain confronted his picky new addition.

"Romano, listen…you're not a princess on this ship, not unless you're going to the palace. Please don't order everyone around like you are."

"What gives you the right to boss me around, Spain?" Romano was sitting on a coil of thick rope as if he was king of the world. Spain refrained from yelling at his stubborn fiancée and held his tongue. "Anyway, the lot of you are worthless anything. All of you waste your time preparing for something that's never going to happen. Attacks at sea are just stories for little kids."

"You have to be prepared," Spain said exasperatedly. "Romano, what would you do if pirates came out of nowhere and attacked you?"

"That would never happen, dammit."

"Say it happened."

Romano tapped his chin. "Then I would throw you in front of me and escape."

Spain laughed. "Alright, say I was busy fighting more pirates. And everyone else was. And they came over to try and rape you. What would you do?"

Romano flushed at the situation. "That would never happen! Because…because…_you_ wouldn't allow it! 'Cause _you're_ my fiancé! And fiancés won't let their fiancées get raped. So there." Romano crossed his arms.

Spain smiled, suddenly picking out a weak spot in the argument. "But then…that would make you more princessy than I thought. Maybe I really ought to drop you off at the palace, Romano…"

The blush that had previously disappeared came back in full force and Romano leapt up. "Take that back, you bastard! I'm not a princess!"

"You sure act like one."

"I…" Romano sputtered. The rest of the crew was watching a distance. Although it gave them hell, the relationship between the captain and his fiancée really was the most interesting thing on the whole boat. "Is this about me bossing your stupid crew around? Alright, I'll stop, okay? I'm not a princess."

"You _say_ that," Spain said, already forgetting the subject, "but you sure don't act that way."

"What do you mean?"

Spain smirked. Romano really was very cute, even if he had already abandoned all the frilly laces he had worn before. The old uniform he had given him looked very smart on the pissed off heir and if Romano didn't open his mouth, he could have passed off as a seasoned mariner. "Although you said before you don't want to go to the palace, you really don't know anything about the outside world, do you?"

"What are you blabbering about? Of course I do!"

"Really. What would you do…" Without even finished his sentence, Spain grabbed Romano and spun him around. Before he could even do anything, Romano had grabbed him back and slammed him onto his back on the deck in a well executed back throw. All on deck clapped in spite of themselves; their captain was well educated in close combat and this was the first time they had seen someone actually land an attack and succeed. Romano stood over Spain with a smirk on his face.

"What would I do if what?" he asked challengingly. "I know how to fight, you idiot. Of course it's something I'd learn before I leave the palace."

"Of course you would," Spain laughed. He hadn't doubted it for a second. Romano may look like a wimp, but he was actually stronger than he put out, even if he didn't want to do a lot of physical labor. Spain leapt to his feet and reached for a practice wooden sword. He had taught most of his crew what they knew about defense. He didn't expect Romano to man any canons, as he wanted his fiancée to be with him at all times. "But do you know how to use a sword?"

A brief look of blankness crossed Romano's face as he caught the wooden sword Spain threw at him, but quickly disappeared. "Of course. Who do you think I am?"

"_I _think you're _Princess_ Romano, that's what I think."

"Put up or shut up, dammit!" Romano gripped the helm in a very untrained manner. Spain grinned as he picked up a sword of his own. "Are you sure you don't want me to teach you something first?"

"N-no! I'm fine." Frowning, Romano leapt forward and swung clumsily. Spain parried it easily and swung back. Romano's horrible footwork caused him to slip and fall back. Seizing his chance, Spain went forward and pinned Romano to the deck and brought his sword down, smashing the wooden sword into the deck in the space next to Romano's face.

Cringing, Romano didn't open his eyes until Spain started laughing. "Bastard! That was a foul."

"I don't think your enemies would be as lenient to let you live as long as you're sailing on my ship," Spain grinned, leaning down so his nose touched Romano's. "Even if you're _cute_."

This time, Spain swore the blush rose even into Romano's bangs. The perpetual curl seeming even more springy, the Italian pushed Spain off him. "Get off me, dammit! And don't touch me like that either!" Sitting up, Romano crossed his arms and attempted a front that suggested he still had some of his pride. However, as Spain and the rest of the crew started chuckling, he shot a glare at Spain. "What's so funny?"

"You…" Spain chuckled as he pointed at Romano's legs, which were tastefully kept together. "You sit like such a girl."

"Well, excuse me!" Shifting so he was sitting cross-legged on the deck, Romano continued, "Excuse me for not wanting to spread my legs! But you'd like that, wouldn't you, you pervert?" Romano smirked up at Spain, who tried and failed at hiding his inner thoughts. "You pervert!" Jumping up, Romano punched him in the face, causing the still laughing captain to stumble back. "Teach me, okay? Teach me to sword fight. So I can kick your ass next time. Okay?"

Holding his cheek, Spain grinned. "Alright, Romano, but you can't expect me to go soft on you."

"No way!"

--

There were so many people. There were so many buildings. There was just so many…so many things! The village was nothing compared to this!

"Nee, nee, Germany, what is this place called again?"

"It's a port city. We're going to find the ship Captain Spain is on. Your brother should be there too." When Germany turned around to make sure Italy was still behind him, he discovered that the heir was staring through a shop window at a white, frilly apron.

"Italy! Stay close or you're get separated."

"Vee, Germany, look! I've always wanted something like this but Sparta wouldn't let me make it." Italy stared up at it. "It's very pretty."

"Er, Italy…you're a guy." Berlin snorted, as if it was laughing at its master. Italy shrugged.

"No one said men can't wear aprons." Italy grinned as he turned back to Germany. "But I understand. If I'm going back to the palace, I'm going to have to stop wearing dresses. Let's go."

On a split whim, Germany pressed Berlin's reins into Italy's hands. "Hold Berlin for a moment," he said quickly, before ducking into the store. Confused, Italy turned to the horse for an explanation. "Germany's so strange, isn't he, Berlin? You're such a cute horse, aren't you? Yes you are, yes you are."

Berlin decided he quite liked this human.

Germany returned outside with a wrapped package, which he pressed in Italy's arms before taking back the reins. "Here. Don't thank me. Don't mention it. Just take it."

Italy blinked as he peeled back an edge of the package and spotted a flash of white fabric. "Germany-"

"Come on, let's go. Spain's around here somewhere." Quickly marching away, Germany took a bemused Berlin with him as Italy jogged to catch up to him, holding the present against him tightly in avoid losing it.

"Germany," Italy persisted, falling into step with the blonde and ignoring the latter's insistence to drop the subject, "did you buy that for me because I'm a princess?"

"_Prince_," Germany corrected, before looking around. "And…you could say that."

"Oh." Italy looked down at the peek of white again. "But I'm happy. I really like…" Before he could say anything else, Germany pulled Berlin along and they knocked their way through the crowd as Italy followed, sneaking peeks at the apron in his arms. When he finally looked up again, he discovered he had lost track of both Germany and Berlin.

"Germany?"

Italy took a step forward and remembered Sparta's instruction that if he got lost and he had been following someone, he ought to stay still because eventually the leader would realize he got lost and backtrack to find him. In that situation, he should stay put and wait for Germany to come find him again. He had already reached the ports and he figured if he could just merge into the crowd, he wouldn't really bring much attention to himself. He was dressed in commoner's clothes, after all.

Someone tapped him on the shoulder. Turning, Italy turned face to face with a grinning man with a six o' clock shadow and a red headpiece. "Hello! Are you Italy?"

"Ehm…yes?"

"Great!" The man grinned, looking utterly friendly. Italy smiled back. "That's just wonderful. Hello, my name is Otto and I'm here to usher you to the ship!"

Italy couldn't believe his luck. He had gotten lost but someone had come to take him to Spain's boat. "Okay." Following Otto around various villagers, Italy struggled to keep up.

"The captain's going to be pleased to see you, Italy. We've been looking for you for ages."

"Nee, I want to meet Spain too. And I want to see Romano again."

"Romano…oh yes, he was anxious to see you too."

"He was?" Italy was surprised. He didn't know Romano cared at all, but then again, he had sent Germany. "Wait, Otto…shouldn't we wait for Germany?"

"Germany? Oh…yes, he reached the ship a while ago and was upset that he lost you. I offered to come find you. Are you alright?"

"I'm well, thank you." Italy turned as he thought he heard someone call for him but Otto quickly hurried him along. "Come along, Italy. Spain's on a schedule and we've got to get back as soon as possible." They walked up the dock.

"Where are we going?"

"Hmm…the palace, I believe the captain said."

Ah the palace. He really wanted to see Grandpa Rome too…then maybe after settling down, he could go see Sparta again…oh, he missed her already. Italy turned as he was sure he heard someone yell his name again. "Did you hear that?"

"Oh, Italy, there's so many people here, you can't be sure if you heard anything, anyway. Come along."

"But I'm sure I heard someone for sure." Italy stopped and turned around. Otto grabbed his arm and pulled him along. "Come on, Italy. You didn't hear anything. Everyone's yelling something here."

"But…"

"_Come along_," Otto said again. Italy glanced back, confused. He was certain he had heard something, someone calling him. Otto pulled at him again and the apron fell out of his arms again onto the ground. "Oh, wait, Otto. I dropped my apron."

"We don't have time for that, Italy," Otto said impatiently. "We've got to be setting off now."

"But Germany gave it to me!" Pulling free, Italy knocked Otto into a villager as he scurried forward to pick up the white apron before it was stepped on. Turning back, he saw Otto bend down to pick up something he dropped, a white masquerade mask.

"You dress up, Otto?"

"Ah, this? Oh it's just…"

"Italy!" An arm scooped the unsuspecting heir up and onto a horse. "Ah, Berlin, there you are," Italy said, petting the horse. "And there you are too, Germany. I thought you were at the ship."

"I was, and then I turned around and you weren't there! What did I tell you about following me?"

"Otto said he was going to find me," Italy said, pointing at the man in question. Otto held his hands up, grinning as he did so.

"Italy, you have no idea what you almost did. This isn't anyone named Otto; it's Turkey. He kidnapped your brother." Germany leapt on Berlin, who pawed the ground nervously. Villagers started to scatter. "He was about to kidnap you too."

"Everyone just loves to ruin Turkey's day," Otto said, sighing as he slid the mask on. "You and your silly apron, Italy. I could have had you."

"Eh?" Still unsuspecting, Italy gripped the apron tighter as Berlin galloped in the opposite direction, as Turkey waved at them. "See you later, Italy! I'll be back for you!"

"Nee, Germany, aren't we going to wait for Otto too?"

Germany grimaced as he urged Berlin farther. "Otto's going to be staying here after all. He has family members to visit."

"Oh. Okay."

Berlin reached the _Valiente_ after a few moments of gallop and trotted up the plank, which was urgently raised at Germany's insistence. Italy stumbled onboard, steadying himself on the bobbing boat. A man with curly black hair and a cheerful face appeared from a room and walked up to him. "You must be Italy! _Hola!_ You're very cute too!"

"Ah, _ciao_. Who are you?"

"My name is Spain. I've come to take you back to the palace. Did Germany treat you well?"

"Ah, yes! He bought me this!" Italy took the apron from the paper and held it out, shaking out the frilly white fabric. "He's so very nice. I like him a lot."

"Do you now?" Spain glanced at Germany, who coughed. Berlin was led under deck. Spain nodded. "You look well, Italy. I'm glad. You're quite charming yourself."

"Thank you."

"It makes me wonder why Romano's nothing like you."

"Eh? Romano…" Before Italy could say anything more, Romano walked up next to Spain. "Spain, you idiot! Don't hit on Italy! You have no shame as a fiancé, I swear. And you, Italy! What is this? Why are you still wearing a _dress_? What's wrong with you?" Grabbing the apron, Romano attempted to take it. "I'm throwing this overboard, Italy. Seriously, you don't have to be a girl anymore."

"No, Romano, Germany gave it to me! You can't throw it away!" Pulling at it as well, Italy struggled to keep it from Romano. "Let go, you meanie!"

"Why would you want something from _that_ creep?" Romano asked, shooting a glare at Germany. "Trust me, Rome can get you something much nicer."

"But…but…Germany _gave_ it to me…"

Before any violence could break out, Spain and Germany grabbed their respective Italians and broke them apart, Italy grinning as he had kept the apron in the end. "Don't tease your little brother," Spain chastened as Romano struggled in his grip. "You'll rip it," Germany explained as Italy looked up at him.

"Hmph." Both brothers turned away from each other and Spain sighed. This was going to be a long ride and they had already gotten off with a rocky beginning. He wondered if the _Valiente_ was up to the ruckus that was sure to happen.

To be continued

--

Note: Another update, behold! Italy subplot! YAY! I'm hitting a bit of a rut as of late…monthly writer's block seems to be rearing its ugly head again. It's a sort of writers PMS. On a good note, I've got a Hetalia high school fic in my mind, although I'm not sure if I should incubate it. Review! They help greatly!


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: If Axis Powers Hetalia were mine, I wouldn't need to write fanfics. If any of these songs were mine, I wouldn't be writing fanfics.**

Background music: --

**Minimal fluff 09!**

---

Of Seamen and Landlubbers 6

The UKB was already sputtering along the seas. The damage from Greece's and America's cannons were taking its toll and there were already plans to abandon ship if need be. England holed up in his room, deciding the next course of action.

There was a timid knock on the door and England answered without looking up. "Come in, Canada."

The door opened slightly and Kumajiro peeked in, its nose sticking straight up as if it smelled something delicious. Canada's head poked in a moment later, looking positively damper. "H-Hi, England. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. What's wrong?" The boat suddenly gave a lurch and Kumajiro tumbled into the room, growling as it collided into England's bed. Canada followed him, falling off balance and landing on the floor. England glanced around. "What's happening?"

"The…the lowest deck is getting filled," Canada squeaked, rubbing his head. "Kumajiro came up on his own and his fur was wet. We're going to have to land somewhere or the UKB is going down, England."

"Has there been land sighted?"

Canada looked relieved for once. "Yes, but we don't know where we are exactly right now. Do you still want us to anchor there?"

"It looks like we don't have a choice." England strode over to a cabinet and pulled out a map. Spreading it across his desk, he beckoned Canada closer. As the blonde neared, England smoothed the creases from the map and pointed to a point in the sea where they were supposed to be. "We are about here…so it means that we've reached a point near northern Asia…which could be any of these places." He ran his finger along the coastline. "Now, if we stay out of this general area," he continued, circling a large chunk of land, "then we should be gold until we get the ship fixed."

Canada nodded.

"Where's France?"

"He's calming down the rest of the crew."

"Good." England started to roll up the map and put it back in place. Canada, sensing the conversation to be over, started for the door, readying to beckon Kumajiro to follow him, but England stopped him. "Wait, Canada."

"Yes, captain?"

"You still have some explaining to do."

Canada jolted. Kumajiro sensed the sudden change in environment and raised his head. Canada turned slowly, a timid smile on his face. "What is it, England?"

"That Admiral. America. He knew you. Why is this? Who is he really?"

Canada's smile faltered. "I…I don't…"

"Don't lie to me, Canada. I picked you up and I can abandon you again just as easily."

Canada shivered, shooting a glance at his bear as if Kumajiro could speak for him, or at least ease the tension. The white bear stared back at him silently. "Um…well…it's a long story…"

"I have time."

Fidgeting, Canada avoided England's eyes. "I'd…I'd like France to be with me, before I say anything."

"France? Why?" But the message was painfully clear; if anything got violent, it was up to a third party to prevent any blood from being drawn. France, who rarely gave a damn about anything, was surely going to be neutral about the subject. And even if Canada couldn't hold his own against England, France could. Shrugging, England nodded. "Call him down here then." Smiling gratefully, Canada reached for the door before England stopped him again.

"On second thought, Kumajiro, get him." The bear's ears perked up at his name and it turned to England. After a brief staring contest, the polar bear stood up and ambled to the door, passing a nervous Canada. England turned his attention to his co-captain again. "You won't come back if I let you leave. Sit down and get comfortable."

France came after a few moments, without Kumajiro. "That bear of yours decided to take a nap on the deck," France said cheerfully, closing the door behind him. "We should be reaching shore in a bit." Seeing the stony expressions on both Canada and England's faces, France's grin fell. "What's wrong? What's this whole meeting for?"

"Canada requested your presence," England said shortly, looking slightly amused. Sitting back on the chair next to his desk, he brought his hands together. "We're going to discuss how he knows that Admiral."

"That novice?" France raised his eyebrows. "This has nothing to do with me." He glanced at Canada, who gave him a pleading look. Sighing, he leaned against the door, preventing entry or exit. "Alright, alright, I'll listen too."

"So, Canada," England said, turning his icy green eyes at the poor man in question. "Explain yourself."

--

America had been lucky not to catch a cold while still on the boat, but Lithuania forbade him from leaving bed-rest, ordering him to be still until it was certain that he hadn't gotten sick. Sealand kept him company, telling him meaningless stories that he had made up. The boy had been ordered to bed-rest as well, his side bandaged. Sealand wasn't as lucky as America; the wound was turning unpleasant shades of color and the deckhand would go into rising fevers at unannounced times. Lithuania had taken on the job as temporary captain and was running the ship with an uncannily experienced hand.

"It looks like land has been spotted," Lithuania announced as he walked into the sick ward. America and Sealand turned to him. "I told the men to get ready to land, since Sealand needs medical help and we've sustained injuries to the ship as well."

"Good job, Lithuania," America sighed, as he leaned back from a sitting position. He had been trying to make sense of maps that he had gotten his guide to get for him. Presently, he had given up on the job and was cleaning his glasses on the blankets around him. Sealand piped up approval himself, making sure not to move and send a shot of pain up his small frame again. Lithuania watched the two injured bodies with concern before he turned to America.

"America…there was that boy on the other ship. He looked just like you. Is he…?"

America nodded slowly, letting out another long sigh. "I didn't think I'd be seeing him out here. He disappeared so long ago that I thought he had gone somewhere where no one could find him. It's a small world."

Lithuania closed the door behind him for privacy. "It means he's a pirate now, isn't it?"

"Yeah, I suppose." America slid his glasses on again, looking much older than he was.

"Eh?" Sealand chirped. "Who are you talking about? America knows a pirate?"

Lithuania opened his mouth to change the subject but America turned to the little deckhand fondly. "That's right. Guess who I met on that pirate ship? My own little brother, Canada!"

"You have a little brother?" Sealand gasped, his eyes growing wide. "I didn't know!"

"Yeah, well…" America scratched his head awkwardly. "Canada's someone in the family that we don't like to talk about."

"What happened?" Sealand urged. "I wanna know!"

"Sealand, don't go prying into things that don't concern you," Lithuania scolded, but America held his hand up.

"He deserves to know this. After all, he got injured during the confrontation. And it's not something I'm really _hiding_ per say…" Turning to the eager boy, America smiled. "Do you really want to know about my baby brother, Sealand?"

"Yeah! Yeah, yeah, yeah!"

--

_Canada had been born a few years after America, but they had been teased constantly about being twins. Canada, like his older brother, had a horrid eyesight from the start and both had to wear glasses from an early age. He was a kind, considerate little boy, just like America, but that was about where the similarities stopped._

_Canada, being naturally soft-spoken and meek, was often overshadowed by America, who was a loud-mouth and usually got wrapped up in things he shouldn't have. America was the one who showed off what he knew (or lack thereof) and had many distinctive qualities. Canada, on the other hand, was as ordinary as could be, often hidden in his brother's shadow. _

"_America, you're not talking much today. Are you alright?"_

"…_I'm Canada."_

_Though these differences in personality hadn't been much of a big deal (after all, the two got along just fine and had their own respective friends), as they grew older, Canada found it harder and harder to cope with being forever mistaken for America._

"_America! America! I've got a bone to pick with you!"_

"…_I'm Canada."_

_America, who had taken this all with stride (he had never once been mistaken for Canada), had only shrugged. "Don't worry about it, Canada. They'll realize who you are eventually. I wish I were you, really. It's annoying to have people bother you all the time. It would be awesome to be a loner once in a while."_

_A loner? Sure, Canada didn't like to talk all the time and make a fuss about nothing, but it didn't make him a loner. He still wanted to be a part of things, although he wasn't going to complain and make a scene if he was placed aside, like America. He rarely complained and turned the other cheek; as a result, he was often forgotten about or mercilessly compared with America._

"_America's such a bold little bugger. Sometimes we can't even get him to be quiet for a moment!"_

"_He's smart, though. Although he can run his mouth a bit."_

"_What about his little brother?"_

"_What about him?"_

_Canada was proud for his brother, nevertheless, but it had a limit, which was crossed when America had been accepted to the naval academy._

"_America, you're going to be a sailor someday!"_

"_America, what are you going to do? Chase pirates all day?"_

"_Canada, what about you? Did you try out for the academy too?"_

_Canada smiled shyly. "Well…I thought it would be fun to be…um…" But before he could say what he wanted to be, a doctor who healed and saved lives, the one who had questioned him had already turned away to converse with America, who had walked past. Canada plastered the plastic smile back on his face and continued as if nothing had happened._

_America had been woken up that night when he though he heard the backdoor open and scampered down the stairs soundlessly to challenge the burglar. All thoughts of heroism were shot when he saw Canada standing in the doorway, startled by his older brother. "Where are you going, Canada?"_

"_Somewhere. I don't know, America."_

"_Why are you leaving? What's wrong with being here?"_

"_You're here, America," Canada said sweetly, smiling. "You're all this place needs. I'm nothing special."_

"_But Canada…" America pouted, crossing his arms. "You're too old to run away."_

_Canada gave him a patient look. "America, no one here wants me anyway. Forget about it. I'll stay in touch with you, still, okay?" Without another word, he closed the door behind him and disappeared into the night. America shrugged, not exactly worried about the whole exchange. Canada wasn't known for being very strong-willed and he would probably be back in the morning. He kept his mouth closed even when weeks past without his little brother showing his face._

"_Oh, America, that useless little brother of yours! He just up and went away!"_

"_America, don't be like your little brother. He didn't even apply himself."_

_America nodded, accepting these to be truths, because after all, you should hear all sides of the argument. Canada wasn't around to defend himself and America didn't think he had justification to defend his own brother. After a while, the whole ordeal was forgotten as he emerged himself in his studies and everyone began to drift away and soon Canada was just another name to be whispered about in the deep night._

_--_

"This isn't going to affect your performance, is it?"

Canada hadn't been expecting any sympathy from England; on the contrary, he didn't even think the captain would even pay attention during his pitiful sob story. He stared blankly back at the question.

"Canada, answer me. If it came to it, would you hurt your own flesh and blood?"

Canada squirmed. "W-well…I…"

"Would you stay loyal to this ship?"

"I…"

"_Answer the question, Canada_."

"England, stop." France stepped forward, holding an arm in front of Canada. "Can't you see Canada's troubled by this? Annoy him later."

"I'm not _annoying_ him at all," England snapped. "I'm not going to carry around a burden. If he's going to get all soft over his brother, then I'd rather have him hop off to join that annoying Admiral's crew than stay on this one. France, you should know better."

"Canada should have time to think this over!"

"Shut your mouth, France, no one wants to hear it. And besides, I'm the captain here. If it wasn't for me, you'd still be wasting away with your damn cheese and wine."

"It would be better than eating the crap you make."

"I will." Canada had spoken so quietly that both of the feuding men fell instantly silent and turned to the blonde. "I will," he said, with more conviction than before. "I'm staying with you, England. Because I'm somebody here." He looked up at England with a soft smile. "I like it here."

England watched him before turning away and clearing his throat. "Ahem…well…as long as that's settled…" The boat gave another lurch and there was a shout above deck. "Land ho!"

"We're landing," France announced, as if the other two were deaf and hadn't heard the announcement. "Let's get cracking."

--

The Hero U.S docked much sooner than America had expected and against Lithuania's protests, he dressed himself and ambled along with Lithuania to greet the little mob that had gathered at the port. It wasn't everyday an Allies ship sailed onto a port and it was always a big deal. America wasn't quite sure where they had landed, but Lithuania assured him it was a legitimate area, although the look-out looked anxious as he said it.

"Whoa, my legs are shaking," America mused as they walked off the gang plank. The little crowd that had gathered made way for him. "It's been a while since I've been on land."

"America, it was only a few weeks," Lithuania said, glancing at the Admiral. "Are you sure you'll be okay?"

"I'm barely sick and the bruises are already healing. I'm going to be fine." America grinned at the citizens in true heroic fashion. "Where are we going to anyway?"

"We're meeting with the leader of the place," Lithuania said, glancing around worriedly. "We need to make sure he'll give us supplies and medical aid. We might be here for a while and we have to make sure it won't cause a fuss."

"That would be a bad thing."

The leader of the place, which seemed to be initialed as the U.S.S.R, had sent transportation along for him, a strange buggy-like compartment. The two rode over to the government building in silence, the driver of the contraption staying silent the whole journey. There was a long black gate surrounding the modest stone building, although the building itself was massive compared to the little houses dotting the landscape. America and Lithuania were usher into the building inconspicuously.

"Wow, the people here must be tight about security," America thought out loud. The people who had been sent to greet them glared at him and Lithuania put a finger up to his lips. America stared at him before his eyes lit up. "Ah, that's right, Liet," he said, using the nickname the rest of the crew had made up for Lithuania, "you came from here, didn't --"

Before America could finish his sentence, the door in which they had been led to opened and a man appeared in the doorway, speaking to someone from within the room. "And make sure the next time we meet with them, they had _actual_ vodka, not some watery liquid they manage to whip up, alright?" Turning just in time to avoid running into the Admiral and his companion, the person's eyes widened and he suddenly grinned. "Ah! You must be the Allies admiral everyone was talking about. Welcome to the U.S.S.R! My name is Russia. How are you?" The man, who was rather intimidating in nature, was smiling openly although it was a bit unnerving. America swallowed his nerves and extended a hand.

"It's nice to meet you too, Russia. I'm America." Russia stared down at his hand before slowly extending his in response. "We've come to ask for a bit of your help."

"Help? Oh, I would be glad to offer you some! What do you need?" Russia started down the hallway alongside America. "It's a good thing you came after the winter season. It gets pretty harsh in these parts."

"Is that so? Thank goodness." America breathed a sigh of relief. "We had a bit of a run-in with pirates so my ship's a bit rusty. Also, one of my crew members has been shot. Can you help him?"

"We're not very advanced in the medical fields as we'd like, but we'll do the best we can." Russia grinned. "Is that all? That's hardly anything major!"

"Yes, well, we don't want to overstep our welcome."

"Hardly!" Russia laughed, a strange booming laugh. "We'd be glad to assist you."

"What do you want in return?" America turned, startled at Lithuania's question. His lieutenant hadn't spoken up before and the question was rather rude at the circumstances. Russia looked past America at Lithuania.

"Ah…thoughtful there…" Russia said slowly, examining Lithuania. "Hmm…you're familiar. Have we met before?"

Shaking his head (although rather fast, America noted), Lithuania interrupted. "Surely you're not going to offer your services for nothing in return, Russia."

Russia smiled mysteriously. "Well, we can discuss your end of the deal after everything has been attended to."

"Sure, we can…"

"No." America turned back at Lithuania with a warning look. _We need this help_, he told Lithuania through his eyes. _Don't make it worse_. Lithuania ignored him. "We have to know what sort of things we're going to be getting into before we get ourselves into something deeper. And I want this in writing, with both of our signatures." Lithuania glanced at America apologetically. "Sorry, America," he said softly. "But I've worked with things like this before and this is how it's supposed to be done."

Russia watched this exchange thoughtfully as America nodded slowly. "You," he said, pointing at Lithuania. "You, you're a mercenary, aren't you?"

Lithuania was starting to shake his head again but America piped in. "How did you know?"

"Only mercenaries would be so nit-picky about details like this." Russia stared at Lithuania again. "Are you sure we haven't met before?"

"Positive, Russia. Now let's get something official whipped up before Sealand's condition worsens, alright?"

Russia's conditions weren't too bad; they could be worse, America though as he read through the list. Russia had only asked for an alliance and help should he ask for it. America was quick to sign, although Lithuania dawdled before reluctantly putting his own name on the witness line. Russia rolled up the document and pocketed it. "Well, now that's done…"

"We would like a copy as well," Lithuania interrupted. America glanced at him in surprise again.

"Of course, of course~," Russia said, his voice taking on a dangerously silky quality. "I would have it any other way…now America, would you like my men to come to you or would you like to have your crew members dock first?"

"Well, if it's possible, could you have a doctor come attend to Sealand? We'll leave the boat in your capable hands." America grinned. "You sure you can fix up Sealand and the Hero U.S at the double?"

"It would be our pleasure," Russia grinned back. "Would you like to lead the way?" He clapped his hands and a few men appeared. America looked impressed and nodded.

"I'll show us to the harbor," he announced, beckoning the men to follow him. "We should hurry, since Sealand might slip into a fever at any moment." He left quickly, followed by the small crowd of helpers. Lithuania made a movement to follow when Russia grabbed him on the shoulder.

"I know where I've seen you now! How could I forget! Lithuania, isn't it?" Russia laughed at his own memory loss. "You were one of my best, Lithuania. You and Poland were especially tight, weren't you? And then you just left…now you're an Allies' member? How surprising!" Russia forcefully turned Lithuania around, staring into the now nervous dark blue eyes. "Lithuania, is this how you greet your former boss? Russia?"

Lithuania paused. "Hello, Russia."

"That's right." Russia gripped Lithuania's shoulder tighter, causing the smaller man to wince under his grip. "You've changed." He leaned down to stare at Lithuania's face. "You're different, now, Lithuania. I'm not sure if I like this."

"I'm no longer yours, Russia," Lithuania said shortly, trying to back away. "I'm on my own. You don't control me, you can't…"

"It's a pity. I liked you _so _much." Russia's eyes grew dark, despite the smile on his face. "You've been spoiled, Lithuania."

"I'm no longer yours," Lithuania repeated, sounding stronger. "Please get your hands off me."

"Ah, right." Russia took his hand away and Lithuania stepped back. "Old habits die hard, eh, Lithuania?"

To be continued

--

Note: Yeah. I caved again and I'm putting some Russia/Liet. For your amusement. Canada pwns, you know. I'm having some loyalty issues…I know I have to finish this fic, but I've stopped and I'm writing more on my high school AU. Someone needs to slap me back to being monogamous. But my internal struggles are nothing to you readers. As long as I keep chugging out fics, eh? Review, to slap me before my marriage is destroyed. Or else I'll become one with Russia and then you'll have to deal with constant kol-ing.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: If Axis Powers Hetalia were mine, I wouldn't need to write fanfics. If any of these songs were mine, I wouldn't be writing fanfics.**

Background music: --

**Minimal fluff 09!**

---

Of Seamen and Landlubbers 7

Finland had seen the ship even before he could read the flags on it. The gentle young man blinked as he stood up straighter, spotting the vessel nearing the shore. The little port they lived in was an inconspicuous spot in the ocean, a small island only spanning a few miles across, and it was rarely visited by anyone of importance. He stared at the approaching black shit quietly, before turning to the tiny spot a few yards away. "Su-san! We have visitors!"

There was no answer for a moment; then a small fluffy white dog sprinted out from the door, barking loudly as it reached Finland. Out of the building entrance stepped a rather tall man with lopsided glasses. He glanced at Finland first, who pointed out at the sea. He ducked out from the door and walked up to the other, wiping his hands on his shirt, smearing grease over the grey.

"Wh's it s'ppoed t' be?"

"I don't know." The ship floated up to the port, almost like a ghost ship and Finland wouldn't be surprised if it was; this ship was very battered and it looked even more dark up close. However, the initial suspicion of an empty ship was dashed when a body appeared at the deck and leapt down onto the shore, landing gently on the walkway. Standing, he stared at Finland before turning his attention to his taller companion.

"Who's in charge here?"

"We're independent from the mainland," Finland offered, bending over to pick the puppy up before it got into more trouble. "Do you know where you are?"

The man, one rather short in stature like Finland himself, opened his mouth before closing it and shaking his head sheepishly. "Can't say I do."

"You've reached neutral territory in the U.S.S.R. This island really doesn't have a specific name but it's split up into two parts: the Nordic and the Baltics. We get along pretty well, I guess. The Baltics is a small part, though, so we help each other out a lot. Our leader's Switzerland, but he's more in mainland. Where do you come from? Oh, my name is Finland by the way. This is Sweden," he said, pointing to the man next to him. "This is our dog, Hana-tamago. Have you come far?"

At this point, Sweden stepped in, laying a hand on the chatty young man's shoulder. "T'lking t' much," he grunted. He pointed up at the Jolly Roger flapping easily in the breeze above them. "P'rates."

Finland looked up. Staring at the flag for a while, he turned back to the pirate in front of him. "We're neutral territory," he repeated, looking unfazed. "So unless you attack us, we won't do anything. What's your name?"

The man straightened his hat, a black felt with black lace and a pink ribbon. "My name is England. We've come for help."

"P'rates," Sweden reminded Finland. The shorter shrugged.

"We're neutral," he maintained. Sweden nodded and fell silent. "Of course," Finland continued, "we won't help you if you don't state your intentions. Being neutral is a bit hard, you know. Why, the other day, a ship sailed up and…" He trailed off as Sweden gripped his shoulder. "Ah, anyway, what happened?"

"We got in a sea fight with some thugs," England said vaguely, thinking back to the battle they had escaped from, how close they had come to be discovered, how close that annoying Admiral was to him…shaking the memory from his head, he looked Finland in the eyes. "We need help. First, we need to unload our cargo before it gets lost. And then we need our ship fixed. We can pay you."

Finland nodded, stroking Hana-tamago, who was staying unusually silent all this time. "That can be done. Do you and your crew need lodging?"

"Yes, please."

"How many do you have? We may not be able to accommodate if there's too many people…"

"We don't have many," a voice called from the deck. "After all, we're _pirates_." With a swift bounce, France landed next to England, dusting himself off. "We travel light."

"This is one of my right hand men, France." France bowed at the introduction, acting as suave and gracious that almost seemed foreign. "_Comment allez-vous_?"

Finland smiled. "I'm fine, thank you." At France's surprised look, Finland smiled. "I'm fluent in a lot of languages. Like I said to your captain, you are the captain I think, we're a small island but we have a lot of different people here."

Another face peeked out from the deck. "Ah, England, everyone seems okay. Everyone's here, at least." Blinking, he spotted Finland and Sweden. "Oh! Hello. I'm Canada." Kumajiro poked his head over the deck as well and Hana-tamago barked.

"That is my other right hand man," England explained. "We need to dock here for a while."

"That's completely fine," Finland nodded. "Would you like help in clearing out your boat?"

"A bit will help. Keep it conspicuous, though. I figure we could probably do it ourselves, since we don't have that much goods on board, but help is always appreciated."

"Ah, right." Finland turned back to the small building. "Estonia! Latvia! Come here, please!"

There was a short call from within and a teenager stepped out from the darkness of the interior of the building. He was very smartly dressed for a villager and looked quite intellectual with glasses, unlike Canada who was purely ditzy.

"Finland, who are these people?" The boy looked up at the Jolly Roger. "Pirates?"

"Don't call them that. Everyone deserves the benefit of the doubt. They're in a pinch and they need our help. England, this is Estonia. He's the brains of the island. A Baltic. Where's Latvia?"

Estonia shrugged. There was a crash from inside the building and a smaller boy sprinted out, colliding into Estonia. "I-I'm sorry! I-I accidentally dropped the box of gears and…and…" He looked up and saw England and the ship that had come with him. Shifting behind Estonia, the boy peeked out from behind him.

"Sorry about that," Estonia explained. "This is my partner, Latvia. He can be a bit accident prone but he's a good kid."

"A partner?" France mused aloud.

"He helps me out. We're probably the ones going to fix this ship of yours," Estonia said, gesturing to the UKB. "Finland and Sweden are the ones who keep things in control and do the manual labor around here."

"So a partner…in more ways than one?" France chuckled at this innuendo and Latvia whimpered, clutching at Estonia's sleeve. "So England," the pirate said, turning his attention to his captain, "are these people going to take the stuff off the ship?"

"Yes." England turned to Finland. "I would prefer you not ask any questions about anything you find under our decks. And we would prefer secrecy. Like I said before, we can buy your silence."

"We're neutral," Finland emphasized yet again.

"Even so," England persisted, "we have a considerable amount of…goods we have packed away in boxes. Whatever you do, _do not_ open them and if they are opened, please come tell me. No matter what, you nor anyone else should touch what is inside…at least, if you want to continue living like you do now." The warning was ominous and for the first time, a frown passed Finland's passive face. The shadow passed away quickly and the Baltic shrugged.

"Whatever you want," he said shortly. "Get your crew out and we'll unload the ship before we fix her."

--

The seas along which the _Valiente_ sailed on quieted as night came. The ship bobbed along and Spain made his nightly rounds, making sure everyone was still and calm before returning back to his quarters to find Romano curled up in his bed. Romano had been sleeping in the spare captain's quarters but that room had been occupied with Italy. Spain had offered to share his room with Romano but this hadn't been what he had been thinking about.

"Oy, Romano. That's my bed."

The younger man shifted sleepily. "So?" he asked groggily, yawning.

Spain shrugged, pulling on more comfortable clothing for sleep. "Alright." Without another word, he snuffed the light and crawled under the sheets as well.

Well, _that_ woke Romano up. "What are you doing?!"

"I'm going to sleep. This bed's big enough for both of us."

"But! Dammit, Spain, you'll _do_ something, I know you will."

Spain chuckled, feeling Romano's body warmth skit away from him. "I won't do anything, I promise. I wouldn't do anything I wouldn't do outside this room."

"That's a lot of things!" Romano backed to the other side of the bed, barely seeing Spain in the darkness. "Dammit, touch me and I'll kill you!"

Spain sighed, getting comfortable in his own bed. "If you'll be that way, it's okay, I guess," he said, yawning slightly. "Good night, Romano."

"Hmph."

Romano grumbled as he wrapped the sheets around him. God forbid, if Spain even grazed him with _any_ part of his body…now, he would have to be careful not to roll over to Spain's side, he would be fine. Trying to get comfortable, Romano rolled back onto his back.

"This bed is _not_ big enough for the both of us," he spoke into the darkness as he felt Spain next to him. "Move over."

"There's no room," Spain mumbled. "You were sleeping so well before. You've been playing with the sword all day. Get some sleep." He shifted and Romano knew he was up to something even before an arm wrapped around him.

"I thought I told you not to touch me, Spain."

Spain mumbled something more but it was inaudible and now that he mentioned it, Romano _wa_s feeling a bit tired…and…well…maybe just tonight he'd let this slide. And besides, Spain was warm – a lot better than those crappy sheets Turkey gave him. Trying not to get_ too_ comfortable, Romano settled down to sleep.

Meanwhile, in another part of the Valiente, Italy was getting ready to retire for the day, fluffing up the pillows on the bed Spain had lent out to him. It smelled like tomatoes, so he figured his older brother had lived here until now. Getting the whole bed ready, he practically slipped under the sheets before sitting up. "Germany, aren't you coming to bed?"

Germany, who had been sitting at the door, looked up. "I'm keeping a lookout. You can't be too careful."

Italy pouted. "Aw, don't be like that. This is Spain's ship. Nothing's going to happen." Patting the space next to him, Italy cocked his head. "You don't want to sleep with me?"

"Eh…" Germany quickly turned and was suddenly interested in the doorknob. "It's not that…but, Italy, I think…"

"Ve?"

"I think…well, I have to keep a lookout," he finished lamely. "Get some sleep. It's going to be another long day tomorrow." Germany glanced at the heir and saw that Italy was still staring at him. "Alright, fine, I'll come to bed in a bit. Let me make sure there's no one out to get you before, alright?"

"Ah, okay!" Snuffing out the light, Italy curled into the blankets and almost instantly fell asleep. Germany sighed.

A few hours later, Italy woke, although he wasn't sure why. There wasn't any additional warmth and he sat up. There was a dark figure at the door and he gingerly left the comfort of the bed to investigate. Ah, it was Germany. Germany had laid in the doorway, ready to trip whoever came in to stop them from getting to him. Italy smiled and went back to the bed to collect some blankets.

"Fine," he said under his breath. "_Fine_. If that's how you'll be, then I'll just come to you." Laying the blankets over Germany, Italy wrapped himself up in one and lay next to the blonde soldier, smiling as he cuddled up to the sleeping man.

--

Estonia hunched over the blueprint of the ship that England had gave them. After they had emptied the ship (there were over twenty crates of the stuff that England had stressed them not to touch, even when Finland asked if there was any dangerous materials. The blonde pirate had just told him not to ask questions and keep the crates in a safe place. So they were now residing in a safe room underground until the UKB was ready to sail again), the thing was still pretty beaten up and it would be more than a week before they could fix it all up good as new, even if they worked at night. Finland had given the crew small huts that were in rather good condition, although the pirates didn't complain in the slightest. They would need a bit of steel, not to mention a lot of wood…

"Estonia…" Not even looking up, the bespeckled student acknowledged the other in the doorway. "What's wrong, Latvia?"

"It's time for bed…"

"I know, I'll be there in a bit." That man…France, that was right…had been rather tactless that afternoon. Even if he was in a discreet relationship with Latvia, there was no right for that perverted man to make any comments about it. And he used the word 'perverted' because he was practically feeling up his fellow crew member…that blonde man whose name he had forgotten…

"Estonia…we can work on it in the morning…" Latvia's voice was small, as if he had no merit in making the argument. Estonia sighed as he ran a hand through his hair.

"I know, but this ship is a complicated mess. I want to make sure I know what we're doing before we start on her." Sighing, he looked up and glanced over his shoulder to the door. Latvia was standing in the doorway, wearing nothing but an oversized dress shirt with sleeves that covered his hands. The straw-colored haired boy shuffled in the doorway at Estonia's watch.

"You're wearing one of my shirts."

"Yeah." Latvia held his hands up, which where hidden in the recesses of the sleeves. "It's comfortable to sleep in." He smiled lightly. "Should I wait up for you?"

"No. Just go to sleep. I'll be there in a bit."

Latvia opened his mouth to protest before shaking his head. "Alright then, Estonia. Don't stay up too late." Shifting, the boy disappeared into the darkness of the hallway and Estonia heard his footsteps fall into the room they shared. Sighing again, he turned to the blueprint for a while more before wrapping it up and walking to his room. Latvia was curled up under the sheets, seemingly asleep. However, as Estonia crawled onto the bed, Latvia opened his eyes slightly and slid up to the boy. Estonia covered them both with the sheets and kept an arm around the smaller.

"Sorry."

"For what?" Latvia asked sleepily, burying his head in the crook of Estonia's shoulder in the darkness.

"Ah…never mind."

--

The darkness was suddenly penetrated by painful light and the one rat who had been brave enough to venture to the middle of the room scurried away to find adequate darkness. The two bodies in the cell shifted at this change.

"How heartwarming," a scathing voice broke the silence. Japan sat up from the spot where he had been gently leaning against Greece and blinked to try and adjust to this sudden intrusion. He felt Greece bristle next to him, almost like a cat rubbed the wrong way.

"Turkey," the curly dark-haired man growled.

"Me," Turkey said simply, finally stepping into the darkness. A white masquerade mask covered the top half of his face. "I've come for you, Greece."

"What do you mean?" Greece asked suspiciously, shifting so he was in front of Japan in case anything happened. Turkey's smirk grew.

"I've been trying to catch a pair of nuisances and I've been having some trouble. So I went to ask you for help but you weren't at your house. I looked around for you and hey! Here you are, in China's house, in a cell with some low-life criminal."

"Japan's not a low-life criminal," Greece hissed.

"Well, say what you will. He's some kind of rebel, or so China said. What's gotten into you, Greece? You usually don't sell your services to just anyone. No matter. I've discussed this with China and he's granting you pardon. In other words, I just paid your bail."

"Don't talk as if you know me," Greece shot back. "We're not friends and we never have been."

"Don't go harshing on me just because we had a few wars years back. Things change, Greece. I need your help. You're free. Come on." Turkey grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet. Before Turkey could continue dragging Greece out of the cell, Greece pulled back.

"I'm not leaving without Japan."

Turkey sighed exasperatedly. "Look, Greece, I didn't come to argue with you. China was easy to convince that you were just in over your head and you didn't have anything to do with some trade he had been interrupted. I have no interest nor the money to pay bail for your little friend. So just say good-bye and let's go."

"I said I'm not leaving."

Turkey's expression, which was not much due to the mask, darkened visibly in the dim light and he opened his mouth to make a threat when Japan spoke up from behind Greece. "Don't be stupid, Greece-san. You're free to go. Don't worry about me."

"Japan…" Greece turned but was forcibly shoved out of the cell, toppling into Turkey as he did so. Greece pushed Turkey away and turned back to the door, where Japan was standing with a small smile.

"Why would you worry about me," he said softly, "when he's already let you go? I'll be fine on my own." He smiled once more before a guard quickly closed the door in front of him, locking him in darkness once more.

"Japan!" Greece made forward to open the door again but the guards quickly stepped forward and Turkey drew his sword. "Don't do anything stupid, Greece."

Greece took a deep breath. He was in a sticky situation. He was now forced to walk free with Turkey, whom he absolutely hated, and he had to leave Japan behind in that wretched cell. It was a circumstance he hated to be in, but what could he do? And if he was free, it would give him more openings to get Japan out, even if he had to put up with Turkey for it.

"I'll be back for you, Japan," Greece called. A guard shook his head.

"He can't hear anything out here, I'm afraid," the man said, ushering him and Turkey out of the basement. The door to the jail closed behind them, sounding hollow and oddly final.

Japan blinked in the darkness and leaned against the door, cold metal that nearly shocked him out of his skin. It was right this way. He was a ninja. He was _supposed_ to help others at his expense. It was an easy decision anyway; he had gotten Greece into this situation so he should be happy that Greece could get out. He would make do without the warmth and those arms and those words. He had managed all this time without them.

So he was crying tears of happiness. Because Greece was finally out.

To be continued

--

Note: Wow. Sleepytime chapter. I hope Finland's explanation of the island makes some sort of sensical sense. For anyone who knows me on deviantart, you'll see the Latvia reference – for those who haven't, here's a teaser: NO PANTS! Heh. Angsty Japan? Who'da thunk? Review, lovely readers!s


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: If Axis Powers Hetalia were mine, I wouldn't need to write fanfics. If any of these songs were mine, I wouldn't be writing fanfics.**

Background music: --

**Minimal fluff 09!**

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Of Seamen and Landlubbers 8

Russia didn't seem to be too bad of a person. Alright, maybe the man's obsession with vodka and sunflowers was a little strange. And okay, perhaps his way of muttering a stream of odd sounding words like 'Kol' was a little off too. And just possibly, the uniformity of the place was a bit unsettling, but overall, it was nice. Better than nothing.

America hated it.

He hated how boring it seemed, the way everything happened at such a routine time. He hated how Russia could seemingly control everyone and make everyone the same. He hated how strange it was, how uniform it was. Back home, everyone could dare be different but things were not so here. Step one toe out of line and weird things happened.

In other words, after spending a whole week cooped up in Russia's house (Russia advised them that it was dangerous to venture out since the villagers were a little violent at times), America was ready to leave. Except Sealand was still being tended to (Russia was rather behind in the medicine of the times, even if Sealand wasn't fatally injured) and the Hero U.S was still being fixed. After lazing about in his room, America decided to stick it to the man (Russia) and do something about his boredom.

He was going…to escape.

Well, maybe escape wasn't the ideal word. It made him sound like he was doing something wrong. Yes, he was just going to get some air. He was a free man, right? America repeated this to himself as he slinked out of the house from the backdoor and snuck past the guards at the gate. It was a good thing he was wearing some of Russia's clothes since he looked quite ordinary now. He didn't belong on land; he was a sea-faring man.

"Um…hi…where is this ship going to?"

The sailor turned to the stranger with surprise. "This is a merchant ship," he said slowly. "If you want to travel, you might want to see if there's a passenger ship available."

America shook his head. "I don't mind the slightest. Where are you going?"

"Well, okay. We're going to neutral territory, under Switzerland. We're not coming back for a while, so it's going to be a one-way trip for the time being." The sailor cocked his head as he started toward the gangplank. "You're not from these parts?"

"Nope!" America followed the sailor, although he had never really been granted permission to ride. Stepping onto the ship, he marveled at how small it was compared to his own. A sort of homesickness for his vessel hit him and he forced a smile on his face. "How long does it take to get there and back?"

"Hmm, about a few hours, I guess."

America figured he ought to have told Lithuania about his departure, but his information officer would probably have convinced him not to leave. He was sure he could probably BS his way around when he got back. With a little luck, he wouldn't be noticed to be gone at that house. Russia had a huge mansion and he doubted he would be missed.

"Alright! Onward!"

"We can't leave until the captain says so, sir."

--

Actually, at Russia's house, America had been utterly forgotten. Being the worrywart he was, Lithuania had checked on Sealand so many times that the medics had thrown him out. He knew he shouldn't really worry; after all, Sealand was as boisterous as before ("Can you _believe_ they all look the same here? How weird!!"). Deep in thought, Lithuania thought he should check on America before that admiral of his got into deep trouble. Rounding the corner, he collided right into Russia.

"Lithuania! Hello! How are you?" Grabbing the smaller man although Lithuania had not made any movement to escape, Russia grinned. "Where were you going?"

"I thought I'd check up on…"

"Why don't we catch up? We haven't talked in years, Lithuania. Won't it be nice? _Don't you want to talk to me_?"

When Russia was like this, it was foolish to decline. Gulping, Lithuania tried a smile; it turned to be a sort of half-hearted grimace. "Why not, Russia?"

"Good." The darkness that had started to settle in Russia's face disappeared and he actually looked quite cordial for a moment. "Let's go to my room."

Walking down that hallway…Lithuania wondered if it was possible to time-travel, because he certainly felt like he was stuck back years ago when he called this place his home. Shivering, as the corridor was still as drafty as times past, he tried not to think about how he had walked on this rug before, how before…

"_I am very disappointed in you_."

He had not been forcibly dragged there, but as Russia opened the door to his quarters, Lithuania felt an icy dread fill him, sending chills down his spine. The room looked different; somehow it was warmer with a fire in the fireplace and an open window – but the feeling was still the same.

"_You said they would join us._"

"Would you like anything to drink?" Russia crossed over to his desk, where a bottle of vodka sat half-full. Lithuania was still standing at the doorway, almost paralyzed to cross the threshold. Taking a shaky breath, he walked in, shaking his head as he did so. "I'm fine."

"_You won't be like them, will you_?"

Russia kept everything, kept them all like battle scars. Various swords hung behind his chair, looking a bit dusty from misuse. There was that whip hanging from the wall and Lithuania determined to look anywhere but there.

"Are you scared?" Lithuania jumped as he realized Russia had said this aloud. To him, Russia had already been talking long before this and he blinked as he wondered how long he had been lost in his thoughts because now he was sitting at a coffee table with Russia across from him with a nearly empty vodka bottle. He felt small in this room, just as small as he felt years ago although now he was years older. Things had changed, he told himself.

"I'm…not scared," Lithuania managed to get out before his throat closed up. It was a lie and he knew Russia knew it. That man knew everything about him. It was no use hiding it.

"I know I shouldn't have done those things to you," Russia said slowly, bringing the bottle to his lips again. This sounded rather rehearsed, like a child saying what its parent wanted to hear. "I've grown older. I don't do those kinds of things anymore."

"_Discipline…you need discipline, Lithuania. We're going to be friends! And friends don't make friends upset. I'm doing this for your own good."_

"It was the past. Things were different! We were mercenaries! It was eat or be eaten. But things are different. Things are finally under control." Russia smiled, a murky darkness resurfacing in his eyes again. "Can we be friends again, Lithuania?"

Friends don't make friends upset. Friends don't tear friends away from family for power. Friends don't hurt friends, don't bring blood to the surface. A shaky smile appeared on Lithuania's face and he was aware that his breathing had become shallow. "Of course, Russia," he whispered.

"Good." Flinging the now empty bottle against the wall, Russia watched as Lithuania cringed at the sharp sound and suddenly leapt at the latter, pinning the now struggling Allies member against the couch, forcing their lips together and tasting the metallic tang of blood. Russia was bigger and had always been stronger than Lithuania.

"We can be friends again, Lithuania," Russia breathed, his eyes taking on an almost animalistic quality to them. "_I'm so happy…_"

--

France had _only_ been following Hana-tamago and Kumajiro running around near the ship, so it was only because of that (_only_ because it was an _accident_) that he caught Estonia and Latvia on the other side of the ship facing the sea with the smaller boy wrapped in Estonia's embrace, connected by the lips.

And being France, he rudely interrupted them. "Whoa, there. It's still light outside."

"We were only taking a brief break," Estonia said, clearing his throat as Latvia's face turned pink. "It's not healthy to overwork."

"I see," France said with a smirk. It was a highly amusing situation he had found the two in; Estonia had built himself up to be such a dependable, intelligent character and here he had been caught in a rather scandalous scene with his little partner. Latvia, who looked like he was about ready to die of embarrassment, muttered something about getting more materials before sprinting off toward Sweden and Finland's workshop. Estonia watched him go before wading off toward the UKB again.

"How's repairs going?" France called from the sand.

"We managed to finish up patching most of the holes," Estonia replied, tapping on the ship to check for water. "We still need to work on the bigger gaps but she'll make it."

"Hmm." France watched the boy do another check on the ship. "Incidentally, England was wondering about some things."

"Yes?"

"He was wondering why two young people like you and Latvia are doing in such a place."

Estonia stopped and turned to France. "And where is England to ask this question in person?"

"Eh, he said something about talking to Canada. And he's the captain anyway. He sends people to do things like this for him." France smiled and cocked his head. "So why _are _you two with Sweden and Finland?"

"It's a long story."

"The boat's not fixed yet."

Estonia stared at France, as if debating if he should say anything. After a while, he shrugged and started toward the shore again. "This place wasn't neutral at first," he began. "It all used to belong to the U.S.S.R, which is the mainland. Switzerland still ruled this part, though, and the Nordic and Baltic parts still got along fairly well.

"Then this massive civil war happened in the mainland over some worldly dispute and things got hectic. People started grasping for power and it was a prime time for someone strong to declare ownership on the U.S.S.R. Incidentally, since we boarder the U.S.S.R so closely, a lot of people came to try and conquer this island, so they could claim that they had already owned these parts so they had a right to rule. We passed through many hands and there were a lot of casualties but Switzerland managed to save most of the islanders from death. It was mostly mainlanders fighting it out since we didn't want to get involved. We were always a bit detached from those problems.

"Then out of nowhere, comes Russia. I'm sure you heard of him, the 'president' of the U.S.S.R," Estonia said, doing sarcastic air quotes. "He comes from the mainland and crushes everyone who is trying to get ownership of this island and claims that he's going to unify the U.S.S.R for sure. After that, people tried to defeat him but they all fell and he started gaining more and more power. He was a leader of some mercenary rebels and he was always trying to recruit more members.

"He was going around threatening his way to get more members. Switzerland was trying his best to keep him out, saying the island had taken enough and he had already been toying with the idea of neutrality after seeing all the violence that took place already. Russia had this one mercenary, who had been newly recruited before he came here, called Poland. Poland was a nice guy, so a few people joined after talking to him. Poland really it hit it off with this guy that was basically Latvia's and my older brother, Lithuania. They were best friends the moment they met and even though he had been cautious at first, Poland convinced Lithuania that if peace was to come, they had to fight for it. So Lithuania joined.

"Poland wasn't a bad guy. He just didn't know Russia very well. When Russia went out to subjugate people, Poland was usually at the base telling stories about himself. Well, anyway, Lithuania tried to convince us to join Russia too, but Latvia had already been harassed by a lot of people before and he didn't want to join anyone at the moment. He was just trying to mind his own business. As for me, I agreed with Switzerland for neutrality so I disagreed with joining with Russia too. I don't think Lithuania was too happy about that. Russia definitely wasn't. He had sent Liet over to try and win us over and when Liet went back empty-handed, he came for us personally. He tried diplomacy at first but when we kept disagreeing, he started getting violent. He was hitting everything in sight, occasionally Lithuania, but mostly Latvia because Latvia was in his line of sight. Well, that wasn't going down well with Lithuania, who had just wanted a nice alliance so when he tried to calm Russia down, I took Latvia and ran. I don't know what happened to Lithuania after that, but the last time he visited us, a few years ago, he said he was leaving Russia's army because he couldn't take it anymore. He said he was going off with Poland but then Poland had skipped off without telling Lithuania. So that was that.

"Oh, right, how we ended up here. Anyway, when I took Latvia and ran, we didn't have much places to go. Russia had already taken over a lot of parts here so we wandered a bit around until he stumbled upon Sweden and Finland. They had done a pretty good job of fending their own against Russia so we decided to align with them and we've been with them ever since."

Estonia fell silent as he continued along the sand over to Finland's, with France in tow. The older man whistled low. "That's one story."

Estonia nodded. "So now you know. Don't bring it up in front of Latvia, though. He's still pretty sensitive about the whole topic."

France nodded, stopping in his tracks in the sand, as Estonia walked along the beach toward Finland's workshop. Watching the boy walk away, France glanced at the shrubbery dividing the beach from the tropical inland. "England, you were never good at spying, you know."

"I'll have you know my spying is the best!" England shot back, his head appearing from behind a bush, his signature glare aimed to scorch.

France shook his head with a chuckle. "If it really is as good as you say, you wouldn't have appeared when you got provoked."

England was about to shoot back an insult when Canada popped his head up next to him. "I feel bad for them," he chimed in. England turned to him with a look that clearly said, 'We're effing _pirates_' but France nodded again.

"It's pretty tough over here, I guess," he said, trailing off as he saw Latvia go up to Estonia in the distance. "I guess even far-reached places can be devastated by foreigners."

"Oh no. _Ooh_ no, France. Now is not the time to grow a conscience." England stood, brushing leaves from his clothes. "When you join the UKB, you do your job. Don't get distracted by other people."

"Touché, Iggy, but you really can't talk, can you? Not with a certain Admiral around, eh?"

"First of all," England said loudly, attempting to drown France out, although his voice was starting to get higher at his own accord, "I am _not_ being distracted by America at all--"

"Oh, so you remember his name, do you?"

"_Second_," England continued, looking murder at France, "next time I see that man, I'm not going to be kind at all. What happened last time won't happen again and…"

"What happened last time?" Canada asked incredulously, still sitting at the ground next to England with wide eyes. France nodded enthusiastically, egging on the UKB captain, although the blonde's face started to redden.

"Nothing happened!" he said quickly, turning away to walk more inland to hide his face. "I meant, he's not going to win next time…"

"But _we_ won," France reminded him, rather untactfully. But England was walking away so fast that he hadn't heard this and continued his escape into the woods. France watched amusedly, before turning to Canada.

"What happened?"

"Hell if I know."

"But you want to know."

"Yes."

France grinned. "You know, the gods of pirates would be very kind if they sent him to us right now."

Canada looked skeptical at this, and France backtracked. "Oh, I mean, I guess not, after all, he is your brother…" Giving Canada a grin, France gripped Canada's shoulders. "But it's okay. You may have been overshadowed by that guy before, but you've got our full attention here."

When Canada continued looking skeptical, France's grin grew as he leaned forward. "At least, you've got _my_ full attention, Canada…"

He was very good, France noted. Not only had he managed to get England all in a tizzy, but now Canada was flushed a brilliant shade of pink in front of him. He may have been known as a tease on the boat, but he still rewarded shows of such honest emotion. His smile smooth like silk, France dared even closer, their breaths mingling. "You can't just neglect the little brother, right?" he purred, sealing the distance between their mouths with a kiss.

Yes, although he had moles--felt up Canada many times, he had never gotten on these kinds of terms with the other lieutenant before. Canada tasted sweet, like syrup. France had never been one to hold back – and besides, Canada wasn't resisting. In fact, the latter had closed his eyes, letting France kiss him senseless. _If_ France had his way, they would have continued scandalously but

Hana-tamago burst into the shrubbery out of utterly _no where_, followed by Kumajiro. The two animals screeched to a stop in front of the two, staring up at them as if they were the latest dinner theater. France broke away to give the two white fluffy creatures a glare that plainly said '_Go Away_' but Latvia broke through the leaves the next moment. "Hana-tamago! Where are you…going…" The boy trailed off as he noticed France and Canada, then the compromising position they were in. Canada's face was very reminiscent of Latvia's own when France had caught the two Baltics earlier.

Oh, and the sexual tension was pretty palpable.

"Oh…um…well…I'll just…leave now…" Backing out as if hell was after him, Latvia bumped into Estonia, who had been following him. Squeaking, Latvia rushed behind Estonia, revealing the pirates.

"_Oh_," Estonia said, although a smirk seemed to be fighting to get across his face. France nearly rolled his eyes. If this little boy thought he could use this kind of thing to blackmail him (him, France, _him!_), that was just a joke to be laughed at. Although when he looked at Canada, he was pretty sure Estonia would rather target him.

"It's still light out," Estonia said, his face twitching, betraying the humor behind his voice. Latvia chuckled nervously.

"Is it? I didn't notice," France replied, just as smoothly.

Canada glanced at Latvia with a 'What-in-the-heavens-are-they-talking-about?' expression, but Latvia just read it as a 'Help-me-before-I-melt-in-a-pile-of-embarrassed-goo'. In order to ease the so called 'tension', Latvia blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"Finland likes saunas."

France and Estonia gave him such dumbfounded looks that Latvia melted in a pile of apologetic goo.

--

Still muttering to himself, England stormed through the forest. "Damn France, what is he talking about…no merit at all…" Stamping on the undergrowth, England wondered just how big this forest was and after a few minutes of walking, realized he didn't seem to be going anywhere. Giving up on his little pity party, he decided to find civilization before he had to start a new one in these god-forsaken parts. Finally bursting out of the overgrowth onto a beach, he stumbled over the grassy parts before realizing he had stumbled into a port.

This port was not Finland's and Sweden's. It was much smaller and there were more houses nearby. A ship had sailed in, since the sails were just being lowered. It was a vessel of decent size and had no obvious ID, so England figured it was just a merchant ship. Stepping forward, he decided to try his luck and inquire about worldly topics with said merchants. Perhaps the bounty on his head had been lessened and…

Oh good god, that couldn't be.

Oh, but it was. He could never mistake that god-awful blonde with glasses for someone else. And he was talking loudly as well.

"Whoa! This place is really cool! Is it really an island? _Awesome_!"

So against his confrontational nature, England found himself hiding (nay, watching) behind a tree, hidden in the shadows he had just leapt out from. Because he was a pirate; he wasn't intimidated or afraid or anything…he was just seeing when was a prime time to strike, because if he took down an Allies Admiral…well, then it would be a win-win situation.

No, this time would not be like the last. He would not be humiliated like that again. He would never second-guess his judgment just because that big headed idiot kissed him. He wouldn't falter this time around.

"Whoa! Is this your house? Haven't you ever heard of…you know…gardens?"

Although maybe the villagers would probably beat him to the punch if that guy continued on this route.

To be continued

--

Note: Random back story, random fluff. I don't know what I was thinking when I wrote this chapter. Ag, I'm going to have to write more but I'll have some time soon. I'm sorry to disappoint the Poland/Liet fans reading, but I don't see that pairing…personally, I couldn't see either of them topping. So Russia/Liet it is. Sorry again. Please check my homepage for details later on as this is my last update for Seamen for a bit. Did you like? Review, please!


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: If Axis Powers Hetalia were mine, I wouldn't need to write fanfics. If any of these songs were mine, I wouldn't be writing fanfics.**

Background music: --

**Minimal fluff 09!**

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Of Seamen and Landlubbers 9

What was going on outside? Had England been back yet? Where was Greece? China…Japan trailed off in his mind again before quickly shaking his head to jog the cloud from his mind. Ever since Greece had left, he had found it difficult to think things clearly surrounded by nothing but darkness. If this kept up, he was going to become crazier than China without England's goods.

He was a ninja. They had frisked him and taken every weapon on his person, but he was innovative, and hell…he needed something to preoccupy himself with. He had to find a way out.

The door was a no go. If he had his tools, he would probably be able to pick the lock, but without anything so much as small and skinny as a stick, he wouldn't be able to fiddle with the lock with his fingers or the small pebbles lying around. No guards patrolled the hallway except for a lone one who watched the door leading to the surface. He was the one with the master ring of keys and he rarely left his post.

Taking off his battered glove, Japan rested his hand on the wall.

Dirt. Exactly as he thought.

China had been so desperate to get rid of all opposition that he had jailed all the people who had spoken up against England. Although most of the population preferred to take China's side, there were still an impressive number of rebels. It wasn't soon before the jails quickly filled up and China had to come up with new places to place the rest of the stragglers. This underground jail had been quickly whipped up for that purpose. And Japan knew enough of China's state to know that this place had been created very haphazardly, and if he found the right place…

Tapping along the walls, Japan felt a bit of earth give way under his hand. Digging a bit, Japan discovered that under the initial hard bits of the wall, the dirt was quite easy to erode away. In the direction he was going, he would be digging his way to another cell, but luckily for him, this cell was empty. And luckier still, China didn't bother locking the cells that were empty…

A small hole eventually became wider and wider until Japan found that after a short time of pawing his way through the dirt, he could worm his way into the next cell. The room was the same size with the same characteristics; but then again, it was as dark as before so Japan couldn't really tell. Making his way to the door, he quietly opened it and scanned the hallway.

Empty. Luck was on his side today. Taking out the guard would be a piece of cake, since he knew for a fact the man spent most of his days sleeping. Darkness quelled even the rowdiest wrongdoer and most of the inhabitants stayed quiet and obedient in their jail. Closing the door behind him, Japan made his way down the hallway and snuck a peek around the corner to where the stairs that led to the surface was.

Well, today, the guard has chosen to stay awake. He was fiddling with a pipe, however, reaching for a little paper in front of him…

In less than a second, Japan was on him and knocked him out rather easily. With the guard out cold, Japan retrieved his weapons, confiscated behind the guard's desk. Grounding the paper under his heel, he glanced at the unconscious man before taking the steps two at a time.

Maybe he couldn't save China yet, but it was a step if he could stop one or two others.

China's house was eerily quiet. Since he was running a tight schedule, China had ordered the jail to be built near his house, since it was the only place he could think of at the time. Of course, the man had slurred an excuse about keeping an eye on the trouble makers, but it was a pretty pathetic reason, truth be told. Today, the house was empty and judging by the thin layer of dust on the surface of the table he passed, Japan deducted that China had not been wandering his house lately. An image of his old friend sleeping somewhere alone in the house struck a chord in him, but he couldn't risk checking up on China and getting arrested again. Leaving through the front door was foolish; China had hired some guards there too to ensure he was left alone while attending his own 'business'. Trying to drown the shame and pity that was starting to overcome him, Japan distracted himself with the task of finding an open window.

He passed a sitting room, a nicely decorated one, with an open window, the breeze blowing at the curtains cheerfully. As he entered, Japan covered his nose; there was a sickly sweet stench in the air – some sort of perfume to cover up a nasty smoke. China was no where in sight and the air was slightly stale. He must have been 'working' in this room recently. Japan didn't want to stay in this place more than he had to; it was disagreeing with him and his argument with China was replaying over in his mind.

One breath of fresh air cleared his lungs and mind and Japan vaulted himself over to the wall around China's house. The guards were no where in sight; the gods were smiling over him today. Jumping to the ground, Japan quickly stole to the woods, where he was sure to blend in and buy some time to distance himself from the house. Now he was out, what should he do?

Task one: find England's whereabouts.

Task two: find Greece.

Although when he thought about it as he walked through the undergrowth, why did he have to find Greece? Their alliance and job was technically over once they had gotten captured, not to mention that masked man, Turkey, had already taken him away. Greece could be anywhere at this moment and Japan figured he could accomplish a bit in the time he took to locate the spacey man…

…

Ah, right! He had to find Greece and tell him that he was free, so the former wouldn't get out of his way to come rescue him. Not that he needed rescuing exactly, but Japan didn't want Greece to storm China's house to find him just to find he wasn't there. He was sure he was causing some trouble elsewhere (and with China, but that sort of trouble was acceptable).

Keeping the thought in mind, Japan mapped out his next steps. He had to keep his goals small so he could accomplish more. Find England. Find Greece. Stop China. Three small tasks. He could do it.

More like, he _had_ to do it.

--

The wooden boxes that held England's precious cargo lay out in the sun, sheltered by the shade by the nearby trees. England had requested a safer location, but Finland had said there was no place big enough to house all the boxes and he doubted anyone would come steal ordinary looking boxes. England didn't want to argue with the seemingly agreeing islander, but he fretted about the status of his goods nonetheless. The island was making him antsy; not only was _America_ lingering around somewhere, but he was a sea-faring man who didn't belong on land.

He only wished Estonia and Latvia would finish with the goddamn repairs and he could be on his way and bid this place, as France would put it, fucking adieu.

--

Greece had been glowering and giving death glares ever since he had set foot on Turkey's ship. Sure, Turkey had his flying carpet and other mystical objects of transportation, but he had to cater to an army he brought to hunt down the Italy heirs and he wasn't sure one carpet could handle at least a few hundred men. He was dealing with Spain's fleet, after all.

He thought he could find an ally with Greece, but that proved to be naïve thinking. The man hadn't forgotten the rivalry and animosity from years ago and was refusing to call his own army to help back up Turkey's. Presently, his ship, the _Istanbul_, was bobbing along uselessly with a restless army and a seemingly neutral Greece. He was getting nowhere on his search for those pesky twins.

Fine, he would just have to march up to that grudge-holding brat and _demand_ that he support him on his quest for the heirs. Maybe he'd even have to bribe the damn guy. Feeling renewed, Turkey stormed the deck, scanning it for Greece.

Ah, right, Greece probably wouldn't want to be found by Turkey so easily. Looking up, Turkey stared at the lookout compartment and lo and behold, there was the elusive Greece. Snapping his fingers, Turkey waited for his trusty carpet to float up to him before mounting and floating up to the non-cooperating party in question.

When Turkey came up to eyeshot, Greece glared at him. "You can't stay away anywhere on this ship, can you?" he asked, sounding edgy. Turkey grinned.

"It's my ship."

"What do you want?"

"I want you to help me."

"I already told you; no."

Turkey sighed, crossing his arms. "Listen, I told you already, I couldn't save you and your little friend. And why are you so upset? The guy got you in jail. What's his deal?"

Greece's glare intensified. "Unlike you, I don't just _abandon_ people for my own sake. I got into this mess with Japan and I'm getting out with him."

"What's your damage? You're so damn sensitive about the topic. He's just your ally, right?" Turkey laughed, a loud, rough bark. Raising his eyebrow, he searched Greece's face when the latter didn't answer right away. "_Right_?"

When Greece still didn't answer, Turkey's mouth fell open. "No. You two weren't _that_ close, right? Tell me you weren't."

"I have no interest discussing such issues with _you_ of all people, Turkey."

Damn brat…trying to hide his anger, Turkey formulated a new route. He could make promises. He could promise anything. Following up was another matter. "I'll cut you a deal, Greece. Help me find these Italy heirs and I _promise_ you I'll get you back with that Japan kid. I'll even try and help you get him out of China's house." Turkey plastered on a plastic smile, crossing his fingers behind his back.

As expected, Greece shot him a look. "Why should I believe you?"

"Come on. What do I have to lose? If we get our hands on these twins, we'll be at an advantage over a whole fortune of land. I wouldn't mind throwing you a bone or two to get your little toy out of jail…"

"Japan's _not_ my toy."

"Whatever. But once we have the twins, you won't have to worry about a thing. You know how much that peninsula state depends on the welfare of their heirs. Anyone who has the two as a bargaining chip practically has that whole abundance of wealth at their fingertips. You know about Italia, right? _That_ place."

"You're using Italia's princes as blackmail to get what you want?"

"Exactly. And I need _your_ help."

Greece still looked skeptical but Turkey knew he struck a soft spot by mentioning Japan. "Come on. Think about it. After we've acquired those two, with our combined efforts, I'll ship you back to China's house and you can go rescue your little princess, alright?"

Shameless words, but Turkey smirked to himself as he watched Greece go pink. He waited for the words to sink in before speaking again. "So do we have a deal?"

Greece seemed to be having trouble making his decision. On one hand, he could refuse pairing up with his despised enemy and risk endangering Japan's life by leaving the young man at China's house. On the other hand, he could (temporarily) back Turkey up and get a faster chance at saving Japan. It seemed like a lose-win situation and sailing around aimlessly (Turkey seemed steadfast at not letting him go home) was not doing anything to help his case. Reluctantly, Greece extended his hand. "Deal. But if you go back on your word, I'm taking the heirs and we won't be splitting the goods."

"Deal," Turkey replied, trying to keep his face from twisting into a snarl. Grasping Greece's hand, he shook his roughly before letting go. "Now we've got an alliance, why don't you tell me just what you have been doing with Japan?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Yes it does. I need to know why that boy's been biting at you so badly."

Greece sighed exasperatedly. Turkey was not going to be letting the subject go anytime soon. Alliance his ass. Once he got Japan back, he was going to march up to that annoying mask and punching him in the face. _Hard_. "We had an alliance going on and we merely strengthened it when he asked for my help against England."

"Strengthened?" Turkey said out loud. "As in, you two…"

"_Yes_," Greece cut in, stressing the word to signify the conversation on that particular topic was over. A likely story he was going to be discussing his sex life with Turkey.

"And what's this about England? You mean, the pirate England? Leader of the Union Jacks?"

"The very one."

"What's Japan got to do with the Union Jacks?"

Greece shrugged, irritation apparent. "He didn't want to disclose too much information. He just wanted to stop England from doing trades with China."

Turkey looked blankly at him. "What's England trading with China?"

"Beats me."

There was a pause and Greece was sure Turkey would leave him along when the masked man piped up, "So, do you like Japan or something?"

At which Greece leaned over and shoved the other off the carpet. As Turkey fell onto the deck with a shout, Greece felt another nervous twitch. He was edgy. _Very_ edgy.

He needed cats.

--

America had lost track of time. He wondered if he was being searched for back in the U.S.S.R. Probably not. He was only gone for about two days. The little island was quite friendly, even if the villagers had shunned him when he went about critiquing their living space. But all in all, he was a friendly guy and when he played with the children and showed them his Allies seal, all was forgiven and everyone took him in their hearts, filling their homes with awesome.

And the food poisoning he experienced was only a small accident.

This place actually made him feel like giving up his Admiral life and leading a nice, peaceful life on land. He found taking walks was not as cheesy as Lithuania made them seem. As soon as his first mate popped into his head, he wondered how Liet was managing back at Russia's house. He'd never seen his friend seem so nervous to be in such a place. He had vague impressions that Lithuania had been there and lived there for a brief time but after that, the brunette quickly changed the topic every time he brought it up. America only had to conclude it wasn't a very pleasant ordeal.

Well…which was why he left in the first place.

A slight drizzle was coming down but America didn't feel like going back to the village. The village head had told him the island was rather small and told him about the mainland, where the capital Bern was located and the island's affairs run by a man named Switzerland. Apparently, said man had a sister, Liechtenstein, who was a local idol the men seemed to worship. America had yet to lay eyes on this popular beauty, although he wasn't sure he wanted to – he'd heard stories of Switzerland being rather…well…

Violent.

And he thought England was a force. After the stories he'd heard about Switzerland's overly protective brotherly self…

Wait, how did England suddenly insert himself in his thoughts?

The rain was coming down a bit harder now and America shook out the drops of rain that were dripping from his bangs. Damn hair. He didn't really mind rain too much; he was just glad he wasn't on the seas where a storm would probably introduce itself by brutally greeting the Hero U.S.

There was a yell in the distance and America was willing to ignore the cries except they became louder and it seemed obvious in the distress of the voice that something troubling was about. Maybe he hadn't been able to defend the seas from pirates, but he'd use his Admiral title to use and save the people in trouble! A surge of heroism rose within him and he jogged down the dirt path toward the yelling.

As he neared, he was able to distinguish the voice as being male's, and a very rude male's as well. "Goddamnit! No fucking help! Damn rain!" It seemed every other word was littered with foul mouthedness and America frowned as he slowed to a trot, the voice sounding oddly familiar.

"Fuck you, America!"

Ah, that's right. Even before he got closer, America registered England's voice in his head, and although the pirate hadn't noticed him yet, it was disconcerting to know he was being cursed nonetheless. As he came toward the beach England was currently swearing on, he noticed more than a couple dozen of wooden boxes on the sand, hastily being covered with what looked like some sort of tarp. England was soaked attempting this task, muttering other obscenities while trying to keep dry the boxes in question.

_Very_ suspicious.

"Well, well, well. What are we up to, Mister Pirate?"

England's head shot up, his hands freezing for a moment as they secured the tarp over the boxes. The blonde noticed America walking (some could say, smugly sauntering) up the beach toward him and he continued covering the boxes as if nothing was amiss. "What the fuck are you doing here, America?"

"Well, I'm not forbidden around these parts, so why can't I be here?" America stopped as he stood next to a covered box. "So why are you so insistent on covering these things? They're not waterproof?"

"Of course not, you idiot, or else I wouldn't be covering them."

"What's in there that's so precious that they can't get a little water?"

"Listen, sod off, already! I don't care if you're an Admiral or a captain or whatever! You're not needed here, you're definitely not _wanted_ here. Just go!" England slammed a hand on the tarp, the potentially loud sound dampened by the wet tarp. America cocked his head as he started walking toward England again.

"It must be something illegal that you don't want me to know about. You're a pirate, after all."

"Well, maybe it is," England said scathingly, his green eyes flashing in the rain. "But you haven't got a warrant on you, have you? You can't search my property. It's infringing on my rights. Isn't it?" He glared challengingly at America, tying the rest of the tarp on the boxes and finally straightening up to fully look the admiral in the eye.

"Guess not," America said offhandedly. "But I guess if an accident were to happen…" With a not-so-subtle movement, he pulled a part of the painstakingly wrapped tarp off the boxes, causing a part of the tarp to flutter in the gust of wind, exposing the boxes to the rain again. England's eyes widened.

"You wanker!" Running to try and pull the tarp back over the boxes, he was intercepted by America, who kept an iron-like grip on England's wrist. Watching the smaller pirate try and wrestle his way out of his grasp, America wasn't sure if it was the rain, or if England was crying. If it was the rain, this pirate looked pretty damn hardcore. If they were tears…

Then…England looked pretty damn fragile.

"You like this, don't you?!" the pirate shouted at him. "You like watching me squirm, is that it? You're ruining everything for me, America. You and your bloody ship! Stranding me on this god-forsaken island! Are you happy? You've ruined everything!" England spat out the last word venomously, struggling in America's grip as he did so.

America leaned down and kissed him.

Hey, the moment called for it. It was raining and England was crying (America decided to go with the crying thought, since it seemed more in the mood), not to mention delightfully distraught (he must be a sadist). Letting his tongue roam with access, America wiped England's wet hair from his face, feeling the pirate close his eyes with the kiss and if America was so inclined to think so…

The pirate was actually responding to him. Not in a violent way like last time, mind you. England was actually staying still and _letting_ him kiss him. But yet again, it was broken by England, who pushed America away.

"I don't know you," England whispered harshly, looking bitter. "I don't know you, I hate you…why are you doing this to me?" He stood in front of America, looking small and drenched as the rain continued falling around them. On another whim, America gathered England up again his arms, feeling the smaller man's wet clothing, along with the body warmth underneath, the body…

America had not been expecting the violent shove and nearly collapsed onto the sand as England pushed him away again. America watched incredulously as England stood before him, his arms still outstretched. The pirate was shaking; no one had touched him like that in a long time and England…he was sure he felt his body _react_ in a way he really didn't like when America touched him. He couldn't let this go on. He was a bloody pirate.

"Go away. _Go away_." England seized the haphazard tarp and secured it over the boxes again. The signature glare and anger returned to those green eyes which had seemed hazed over from the rain a few seconds before.

"Is this your form of justice?" America got to his feet as England glowered at him. "You think you can get around to arresting me by playing _that_ card? It's not going to happen. Because as we both know, I haven't done anything wrong and you don't have proof to suggest otherwise."

America mustered a cocky grin on his face. "I'm just protecting the peace, and obviously you're disrupting it if people want you off the seas."

"That's only one side of it."

"Why don't you tell me yours then?"

"Why don't you go sod off home, Admiral?" England pulled out a pistol. "I'm sure a lot of people would be worried over a little bugger like you," he said sarcastically.

"Like you?"

It was only a joke but it seemed only America found it funny as he chuckled scampering off from the bullets aimed at his feet.

To be continued

--

Note: In my world, Japan really can escape that easily. Enjoy this burst of USUK because you're going to have to sit through a batch of Spain/Romano soon. I'm going bipolar by switching around the pairings I'm writing about. I've been getting positive reviews to continue, so I assume you like it? Review!


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: If Axis Powers Hetalia were mine, I wouldn't need to write fanfics. If any of these songs were mine, I wouldn't be writing fanfics.**

Background music: ---

**Minimal fluff 09!**

--

Of Seamen and Landlubbers 10

Well, damn. America was gone.

Lithuania had figured something was wrong when Russia's house seemed sort of…quiet. He checked up on Sealand, offhandedly asking if the boy had seen the Admiral. The boy didn't, looking curious, but Lithuania didn't need to be raising panic so he quickly changed the subject. He searched for the crew members and asked if they had seen anything but they hadn't either.

He really didn't want to find Russia and ask. Being in the house brought back horrible memories and if it wasn't bad enough, Russia was popping up in strange corners, startling him out of his wits whenever he walked down a hallway. If it was the last thing he did, he wasn't going to ask Russia for help. There was always a price attached to everything Russia did for you and Lithuania didn't really want to risk it.

But things were getting frantic. The first day America did a no-show, Lithuania figured he was just trying to get his space. The Admiral was moody as of late, whenever it came to pirates or places where he wasn't the most awesome creature around. The second day, Lithuania was willing to shrug it off. But the third day turned to the fourth and America's absence was starting to be quite glaring. Lithuania didn't think Russia knew yet, as the house was rather big and those who didn't know America well couldn't really tell if he was hiding off sulking, exploring, or missing. But when the lieutenant went to confront America in his room and found a made-up bed and the air of desertedness, he was certain now that America had disappeared.

But where could that blonde have gone? Neither knew the Soviet Union well enough to wander off without getting lost. The Hero U.S. was still in the port when Lithuania looked outside so America couldn't have taken his ship and sailed off. Not to mention he couldn't have gone far and abandoned the rest of his crew. Nonchalantly walking through the house, Lithuania searched every nook and cranny and confirmed his suspicion: America was no longer in the house.

He had to think smart. He couldn't let any one else know their captain was missing or there would be mass chaos and Russia would swoop in to try and save the day. America could not have gone further east or north, as those were nonhospitable terrains. Going south made no sense as they were mostly trading caravans and he could find no reason why America would jump a caravan out of the blue. That left only the west, and to the west was the sea.

America may not have taken the Hero U.S. but he had sailed off by himself! Without leaving a note! Lithuania fumed as he visited the library in Russia's house to look up some maps. Honestly, America was a good captain and everything but someone really had to watch over him or he went crazy. Spreading a map of the Soviet Union, Lithuania scanned over America's options. America couldn't go too far off, so he mapped off a good twenty mile radius from their current location. It was possible that the Admiral may have gone to a coastal city but that blonde would have surely caused such a scene in those places that they would have gotten word about him by now. He'd have to send out word to look out for him.

There was only a small number of routes America could have gone then. There were a scattering of islands off the coast, like dots of freckles on the sea, but with the information about those islands, they were small and indigenous and he doubted America would be interested in places like those. That left only a considerably bigger island, the Neutral Republic of Switzerland.

Lithuania was starting to plan how to contact America when a strong pair of arms appeared and wrapped around his waist. Nearly leaping out of his skin, he felt Russia's breath tickle his ear. "What are you up to this time, Lithuania?" the man asked, his voice a mixture of curiosity and warning.

"I'm…plotting our route after we leave."

"Mmm, but you won't be leaving soon."

Was that a threat? Lithuania couldn't tell. "When the ship is repaired," he replied, willing his voice not to shake, "and when Sealand can travel, we'll get out of your hair and go back home."

"Is that so?" Lithuania was swung around and pulled flush closer. "I don't mind you in my hair, Lithuania. Don't you like it here? It's just like old times."

Precisely the time he'd rather not remember. "Like old times," Lithuania repeated, cursing inwardly when he heard his voice waver.

"Remember when I would always hold you like this? After I forgave you for all the bad things you did." Russia nodded contently. "You got my clothing dirty with your blood but I forgave you for that too."

Lithuania shivered at the memory. He couldn't break Russia's grip and he didn't know what would happen if he _did_. He wanted to go, to run elsewhere. There had to be someone who saw the open door to peek in. Someone had to come. Russia's body warmth was by no means comforting; no, it was utterly _terrifying_.

_Someone please come!_

In the quiet, a strange accented voice suddenly floated into the room. "Like, Russia! Where've you gone! I came to visit and I like, totally couldn't find you anywhere!" Prancing in the open door, a blonde entered with a flourish. Not America, but Lithuania never felt happier to see anyone else in his entire life.

Waving his hands in a very jazz-hands manner, Poland finally looked up. "Please! This house, like I've always been tellin' yous, is…" He trailed off as he noticed Russia, then Lithuania. "Liet! You're back! How's it going, baby?" He took a step forward and saw the way Russia was holding Lithuania, extremely protectively.

"Hey…what's goin' on heres?" Poland's face darkened for a moment. "Reunion and I wasn't invited? Totally not classy, I'm telling you!" When no one else said anything, Poland dropped his hands. "Okay, you got me. Like, what's going on?"

"Hello Poland!" Russia said, his voice eerily cheerful. "You'd never guess. Your friend Lithuania's an Allies member now! Disgustingly wonderful, eh, comrade?" Shoving Lithuania forward, Russia's smile was looking more and more like that of an ax murderer. Poland helped Lithuania stand as the lieutenant stumbled forward.

"Totally? That's…" Poland trailed off again as Russia stormed out, carrying a cloud of foul mood with him. Lithuania kept his eyes trained on the floor as Poland watched the heavyset man leave before turning to his friend. "Liet, what's, like, going on? You've gotta tell me!"

Lithuania let out a long breath. "It's a long story, Poland."

--

Romano let the salty spray hit him in the face, blinking the water away that had gotten into his eyes. How long ago had it been when he was still stuck in the palace? He'd never thought he'd be getting up to stuff like this. He wasn't a very good sailor when he was younger, getting awful bouts of seasickness, but now his legs were no longer shaking. Would it be so bad to spend the rest of his days on a boat like this?

Probably, he thought, as he heard Spain's cheerful voice a distance behind him, talking to the crew members. Leaning against the edge, Romano sighed quietly to himself.

"Romano! What's wrong? You sick again?" Italy skipped (yes, _skipped_, Romano thought disgustedly to himself) up to his older brother. He was no longer sporting the frock from when he left Sparta (Romano had more or less forced him in pants) but he was still as innocent and housewife-ish as so. Slapping his brother on the back, Feliciano grinned. "That's right…just puke it out. You'll feel so much better!"

"I'm _not_ sick, you girl." Romano shot a glare at Italy. "I've been on this ship longer than you have, so you've got no right to say anything like that."

Italy shrugged, before leaning his back against the edge. "We're going to be home in a few days," he said. "We'll see Rome-ji-san again. Are you excited?"

"No. I'm not going back."

"You've got to. You're an Italia heir. You can't spend the rest of your days on Spain's ship."

"Not just Spain's ship. But elsewhere. I can't stand the palace anymore. You'd like it though," he teased. "They've got lots of ruffles on palace clothing and who knows? Maybe Rome'll let you wear a dress again."

"You think?" Feliciano giggled. "But that aside…" He paused, staring at his brother. "I was wondering…Rome-ji-san was going to marry you off to Spain before you were kidnapped, right? What about now? Does that still stand?"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I mean…you've been sailing with him for a while…do you actually like Spain now?"

"What?!" Romano felt a healthy blush scatter on his face as Feliciano stared at him. "I…I _do not_! What has he been telling you?!"

"Nothing. I just thought…maybe…I don't know…I was watching you two and you seemed like fiancés…"

"That's not…that's not…!" Romano shot a look at Spain. That idiot? Please! Maybe he was now indebted to marry that idiot curled freak but it didn't mean he liked him in any way shape or form! Spain felt daggers shoot in his back and turned, seeing Romano. He waved in a cheerful way, noticing how Romano's face seemed to get redder as he turned away.

"So…he's that horrible of a person, eh?"

"_Yes_!"

"Oh. If it'll make you happy, I'll talk to Rome-ji-san when we get back. I'll tell him that it's a bad idea to marry you off to Spain. He'll listen to me. Then he'll get out of your hair." Italy nodded at his plan.

"W-well…he's not _that_ bad…and it's not like he'd give up that easily anyway!"

"So you _do_ like him."

"I do not!"

"Italy." The twins turned as Germany walked up to them. "Ahem…I mean, Feliciano. You shouldn't stand so close to the edge. You know how you are…you might fall over."

"Ooh?" Feliciano leapt forward and threw his arms around Germany's neck, oblivious to the way the latter nearly cringed at the touch. "You won't let me fall overboard, will you?"

Romano groaned as he turned back to the sea. Maybe Feliciano was right…he was going to puke. Staring up again, he noticed a ship sailing toward them. "Spain!" he called, training his finger to the ship to keep it in view. "There's a ship coming."

Spain left the other crew members and strolled over, staring out at the ship. "Well, it's not a pirate ship at least," he figured, spotting a red flag. "It's definitely foreign. It doesn't seem aggressive…"

"What should we do?" Germany asked, still wearing his Feliciano necklace.

Spain waved a hand. "Give a warning to the canons but don't shoot yet. It might be harmless. We'll just have to see." Germany nodded as he made his way (Feliciano still around his neck) below deck. Romano turned to him.

"Is anything going to happen?"

"Hard to say," Spain said, stroking his chin. "This ship hasn't been a nuisance before, but things change, don't they?" He turned and smiled at Romano, earning him another pink blush. "What were you and your brother talking about?"

"Nothing!"

The ship pulled up next to them, slowly as if holding a heavy crew. There were a few crew members on deck, along with a spacey man whom Romano figured was the captain. At least, he didn't look like a crew member. He waved from the other ship, and Spain waved back as if it wasn't dangerous. Romano wanted to swat his hand.

"Hi!" the man called from the other ship. "Do you have any cats on board?"

It was a strange question and both Spain and Romano were speechless until there was a loud shout and the _Valiente _rocked unsteadily. By instinct, Romano grabbed Spain, who wrapped an arm around his shoulders to keep him steady. Turkey floated into view with his carpet, cackling evilly.

"Well, what do we have here? Looks like the sea washed up a bunch of rats and some prized specimen!" He grinned as he looked down at his crew. "Go, men! Take the Italia heirs and kill everyone else!"

"To arms!" Spain shouted as planks fell onto the rigging. Italy, who had come up to see what all the ruckus was about, squealed and darted back into Germany's arms, who looked ready to fight.

"Stay below deck," Germany soothed, leading Italy back to the stairs. "Don't worry; I'll make sure they don't take you."

Italy was tearing up but he nodded. "Thank you, Germany," he smiled, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek as thanks. The serious blonde flushed slightly before hurrying Italy on his way below deck. There was another loud boom and more canons were fired onto the _Valiente_.

Turkey's crew flooded onboard, along with help from Greece's army. Greece himself tried to be part of the action but tripped as he crossed and tumbled onto deck. He didn't seem to be threatening so Romano ran past him to engage some of Turkey's fighters in battle.

"It looks like the little princess can fight now," Turkey called, observing the scene from above and scattering pepper into the eyes of anyone who looked up to attack him. "Who taught you, princess? It must be the prince."

"I'm _not_ a princess!" Romano growled through gritted teeth.

The boat rocked again but this time, the _Valiente_ had shot into the _Istanbul_. Spain's crew had managed to throw the planks overboard and steer away from Turkey's ship so the flood of fighters would stop and they could attack back properly. Germany was continuing to throw many injured enemies into the sea, fighting with his skill from under the _blitzkrieg _technique. Spain was gallantly defending the deck and holding his own against Turkey and his pepper shower. The sword training had paid off, he noticed, as Romano was defeating his own bunch of fighters as well.

Turkey growled in the air. The battle was not turning in his favor. Even with those damn Grecian soldiers, they were _losing_! And what was Greece doing? Crawling on the deck searching for stray cats? He flew lower to confront his 'ally'. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Infiltrating," Greece replied, looking tired. "But I'm usually napping at this time. I'm exerting too much at the moment."

Turkey almost sputtered. He floated up again to observe and noticed with horror that they were already outnumbered and most of his army was either swimming away or floating dead in the ocean. Gritting his teeth as Spain threw the last of the crew overboard (the _Istanbul_ was on a sinking course as it hurried away after being peppered – ha ha – with cannonballs). He was going to have to take things in his own hands.

"I came for the twins," he snarled, "and I'm going to be leaving with at least one!" Swooping down like a falcon, he knocked the sword out of Romano's hand and yanked him up with him. "You may be superior on land," Turkey called as he tried to subdue a struggling Romano, "but I own when it comes to the air." He shook his head as Greece was discovered and thrown overboard without a scratch by Germany.

"Let me go, you perverted old man!" Romano cried, wrestling to free himself from Turkey's grip. "Dammit, Spain, help me out here!"

"Hold on, Romano!" Turkey was climbing higher in the air, dancing away from the poles where Spain could climb to get to him. "Admit it," he taunted, bending Romano's wrist so the boy cried out in pain. "You can't defeat me, and I'll just leave it at that and take my prize."

"Oh no you don't!" Italy had dashed on board, looking indignant. "You're not taking my brother again, you weirdo! Take _this_!" Throwing what he had been holding, Italy heaved a string of sausages up at Turkey, who jumped and accidentally let go of Romano, who had been struggling near the edge of the carpet.

"Pork!" Turkey yelped, trying to get the sausage off the carpet. "I can't stand that stuff!" He yelped again as Romano slipped off the carpet and tumbled into the air. He reached out to grab the twin when Italy threw another string of sausage. Giving an estranged shout, Turkey flew away, bucking the carpet to try and shake the pork off. "You think you've won!" he shouted, although he was starting to sound frantic.

Germany turned to Italy. "Did you take that from Berlin's sack?"

"Yes I did!" Italy beamed up at Germany. "Good, right?" The blonde looked away, scratching his chin sheepishly. "I guess." Italy giggled.

"Goddammit!" It seemed no matter where he went, he was always destined to be falling somehow. At the tower…he fell from a much higher distance! What was this? Life hated him, that was for sure. There was nothing to grab onto and Romano griped fruitlessly at the air. No, Spain had to catch him. He always did, right? "Spain…!"

As if his wish was granted, a pair of arms caught him and Romano's arms scrambled around Spain's neck. Spain held him close, gripping him as if he could slip through his fingers like oil.

"You're _late_," Romano wanted to shout, but it came out as a whisper as he buried his head in Spain's shoulder. "You should have saved me sooner, dammit. You let him take me. You…you…"

"I know, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Spain murmured, holding Romano tighter. "I'm sorry…I'm so sorry…"

"You damn right should be," Romano mumbled, his arms still tightly wound around Spain's neck. Warmth…warmth…he pined for it from that near-death experience, damn clothes…he wanted to feel the comfort of skin on skin, not necessarily in a sexual way…he let Spain seek out his lips and kiss him softly, right in front of all the battered crew, in front of Germany (who turned away respectfully), in front of Italy (who covered his mouth in surprise).

"I'm sorry," Spain whispered in Romano's ear, tickling the brunette's neck with his breath. "It won't happen again, I promise."

"Cross your heart and hope to die," Romano replied softly as Spain let him on his feet again. Spain took his hand and guided his finger in a cross over his heart and kissed the fingertips. Romano blushed as the adrenaline started to wear off and _did he just kiss Spain in front of everyone_?! Pulling hand away quickly, Romano retreated into his quarters, slamming the door behind him.

As the crew tended to their injuries, Italy rushed up to Spain with Germany in tow. "Spain! That was great! I didn't think Romano would let you kiss him, though! Don't worry, he'll be fine when he gets over it. I don't think he regrets it in the least! I'm hungry…I threw food at Turkey…do you have any food? I'll go look!" Running his mouth, Italy darted down below deck to see the cook. Germany cleared his throat and looked at Spain, who stared incredulously at him.

"Good catch."

--

Greece struggled to keep a wet hold on the floating piece of plank from the _Istanbul_. Damn Turkey…he knew that traitor would double-cross him and leave him stranded in the ocean. One could only tread water for so long. He doubted he would have enough strength to hold onto the plank…that and he was getting tired…

If only he had a cat. One cat could keep him awake until he could find the strength to swim a bit. He knew himself well enough to know he could swim a distance, and in that distance, he was sure to be spotted by someone. He wasn't sure how far they had sailed out from shore, but there had to be someone looking over him above to make sure he was rescued.

Was it karma? No, he didn't believe in karma. But he could have been cursed. What was he thinking, leaving Japan behind? He should have resisted. It was too late to regret it.

The water was cold, but he'd withstood colder before in the Mediterranean. He expected as much from Turkey. He pedaled a bit before sighing and stopping. He couldn't keep this up. He had missed his nap by four hours. He hadn't missed a nap in forever.

_Dear mother in heaven…I'm sorry for disappointing you_…the image of his mother, a beautiful woman hardened by the olive harvest and tanned by the Athens sun, floated in his mind and he closed his eyes and allowed it to take over. His grip slackened on the plank and he heard voices calling. As he floated into unconsciousness, he heard his name being called again and tried to rouse himself to see who it was.

It was a mirage. A mirage of a small boat sailing up to him. It had to be a dream. Greece struggled to keep his eyes open but they were too heavy and stubborn to fight against. He heard his name again, _Greece_!, but he closed his eyes still the same.

A hand, soft and delicate like an angel, touched him on one wet shoulder. His eyes fluttered open again and there was a goddess in front of him in dark clothing, or at least Hermes here to carry him to the underworld. There was a shout and a bunch of hands grabbed at him – yup, definitely he was being dragged…up? The underworld was really above?

He felt wood as he was laid on the floor of the boat and sunshine. He didn't think the underworld was quite such as bright. He cracked open an eyelid and saw someone staring down at him with dark eyes.

"Greece? Are you okay? Can you hear me? We'll get you to safety. Don't worry about it." Strange…Hermes was sounding more and more like Japan as time passed. Well, if he was given one last gift before passing on, he may as well take it. Reaching up, he pulled the mirage of Japan closer so their lips met. There was a slight movement of surprise before the lips kissed him back shyly.

"Hermes," Greece murmured. "Hermes…find Japan…and tell him I'm sorry I couldn't save him." He couldn't stay awake any longer and drifted off to sleep.

The rowers, who had taken the boat out to sea after spotting the survivor of a shipwreck, turned to the one who had implored for their help. Staring at the slumbering body then to the flushed person next to it, the leader cleared his throat. "Ahem…excuse me, mister…um, Japan, was it? Will he be okay?"

Japan looked up and a brief smile crossed his face. "Yes, he's going to be fine. He's just sleeping."

And Greece slept on, with dreams of white marble and cats.

To be continued

--

Note: TURKEY! Fear not, dear readers, this is not the last time you've seen the last of that devious man/nation! Icky, more Spain/Romano! Poland is really hard for me to write. Trying to include a bit of mythology at the end…? Fail? I got a review saying I was writing equal parts of every single arc of this story. Am I? I feel like I'm focusing a bit more on the Italy pair…after all, there's really two big parts: the pirate part and the Italy part…I don't know. But of course, you guys will drink up anything fluffy? I don't want to be short changing the story by having tons of fluff. Review?


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: If Axis Powers Hetalia were mine, I wouldn't need to write fanfics. If any of these songs were mine, I wouldn't be writing fanfics.**

Background music: ---

**Minimal fluff 09!**

--

Of Seamen and Landlubbers 11

He had done it! He, wonderful and spectacular Admiral America, had finally infiltrated the dastardly pirate's base! All by himself! Some had doubted his ability, saying he was a newbie so he couldn't possibly do as great things as those seasoned veterans before him!

And using his powerful deductive skills, he had figured out that England had something hidden in those boxes of him that was probably not legal!

Alright, he hadn't done much, but he had gotten this case farther. He had figured out where England was hiding. They were in relative distance to each other. He could use this…right?

"Mister America?" America was jolted out of his thoughts as the daughter of the couple's house he was staying at shook his arm. He turned to her, a cheerful young girl with a wide smile and two dark pigtails tied up in bright ribbons.

"Oh, Seychelles, what's wrong?" America gave an equally dazzling smile, one of his many talents.

"Nothing. You just looked troubled. Is something wrong?"

What was he going to say? He hadn't told anyone he was an admiral for the Allies, in case any of them were spies for England. "Nothing. Nothing major, at least. I was thinking about ways I could catch someone, that's it."

Seychelles stared at him. "Catch someone? Like a police man?"

"Not exactly…"

Seychelles's eyes brightened. "Oh, so you mean like a lover?"

America flushed at her words. "No, nothing like that!" He could hardly think of England as a lover, no way! England was a pirate, someone he had to bring to justice. Yes, England was just another pretty pirate with bold, green eyes and a body that seemed to fit with his…shaking those thoughts out of his head, America focused on Seychelles, who was smiling amusedly. "Where would you get those kinds of thoughts?"

"Adults think kids just play around all day. They won't notice if we listen and they don't think we understand what they say. It's so clear you like someone, Mister America! Tell me!" Seychelles looked eager. "I'll help you get this girl!"

"It's not…" America gave up. It was kind of the same thing, right? He could still use the same techniques to put England off guard and peek at those elusive boxes of his and use that as evidence to arrest the pirate. "Alright, what would you say I do if this woman of mine," America said, feeling another intense blush overcome his face, "doesn't want anything to do with me and pushes me away when I do anything?"

Seychelles thought for a moment. "Hmm. Is she completely uninterested with you?"

England had kissed him back…yes, of this he was sure. He had definitely felt pressure back on his end when they kissed in the rain. "No. I'm pretty sure…but she can't show her feelings. Or she won't."

Seychelles frowned. "That is bad. Well…I think you should try and do something with her. Take her out for dinner or something. Or drinks. I think if she kind of likes you, she'll do things like that."

The image of having dinner with England was almost a comedic sight and America had to resist the urge to laugh. It would seem like he was scoffing Seychelles's ideas and she was helping him. Drinks seemed more appropriate. And anyway, alcohol was a useful stimulant…as in the intoxicated stimulant! As in England would be too occupied to know if he did anything! As if he went to look in the boxes! His head as he tried to turn his thoughts in one direction.

"Mister America? Are you okay? Your head hurt?"

"I'm just thinking."

Seychelles patted America's head. "I'm just curious," she said, "but I'd like to know what this pretty girl looks like." America looked up at her incredulously and she continued. "I mean, she must be beautiful or something for you to like her so much, right?"

"Liking someone doesn't mean it's all about looks," America said.

"Yes, but you seem…" Seychelles paused before rushing into saying bluntly, "You seem like the kind of person who would like someone based on looks."

Did he really come off as shallow? Smiling sheepishly, America ruffled the girl's hair. "I wouldn't like someone _entirely_ based on looks. But I'll tell you anyway. She's got blonde hair, like me, and beautiful green eyes. She's got a great body, curves and everything…" He had felt almost feminine hips when he had held England. "She always says mean things to me but sometimes…" England looked so fragile in the rain. "Sometimes it's as if he's one of us…"

Seychelles cocked her head. "He? I thought you said it was a woman."

"Oh, right! Yes, she! Sorry, it was a slip of the mind."

Seychelles smiled mysteriously. "That's completely okay, Mister America. You can like whoever you like." Giggling as she dodged a playful punch aimed her way, she skipped over to the door. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go play with the other kids." Laughing, she darted off, leaving America to his thoughts again.

--

Was he dead…if he was dead, why was he lying in a bed in a slightly lighted room? Surely the underworld's ceiling would not be cracked? Greece shifted and realized he still had feeling as a pang of hunger fled through his stomach. You weren't supposed to be hungry when you were dead. Sitting up, he tried to piece back what happened to get him up to this point. Turkey had left him to drown in the ocean…looking out the window of the room, he saw a port city outside. That meant this was some sort of hotel.

Then he wasn't dead. He had been saved.

His attention shifted when there was a slight movement next to him. He was in a room with scant furniture, including one chair, a desk, and two beds. Two beds? Greece tried to peek over the covers of the other bed and saw a mess of black hair.

Ninjas are trained to be light sleepers, able to awaken at the slightest movement or sound. In a way, ninjas are never sleeping; merely, they are at rest. So Japan was quite aware when Greece slipped into the bed with him and started when he felt a pair of strong arms encircle his waist. "G-Greece-san, you're awake!"

Greece said nothing, opting to say nothing but nuzzle Japan's neck affectionately.

"A-are you hungry or anything? Maybe we should go somewhere…" Japan felt at a loss of words, his face heating up as he felt Greece's breath next to his ear.

"So it was you."

"Me?"

"Who saved me."

Japan cleared his throat. "Um…yes. I escaped from China's prison and I was asking around to see if anyone had seen you or that masked man. The last time anyone saw either of you, you were sailing off in some kind of confrontation. You were some miles off the coast of this city and the villagers said there was a sea battle going on since there were so many cannon sounds so I took a boat out to investigate and I found you."

"Thank you."

"It's the most I can do for someone who helped me!" Japan blabbered, feeling himself lose control of his mouth. Greece pulled Japan closer, flustering the ninja further.

"I'm tired," Greece murmured, yawning. His grip on Japan didn't slacken, despite his fatigue. Everything in his to do list had been finished: he had found Japan, escaped from Turkey's dictatorship. He could go back to his usual schedule.

"T-then I won't disturb you," Japan stammered, finding Greece's warmth to be a rather enjoyable.

"I'm glad I kissed you rather than Hermes," Greece said sleepily, before completely dozing off and leaving Japan to fret about who Hermes was before smiling to himself. It didn't matter; Greece had chosen him.

Sighing, Japan let himself be held as he stared up at the ceiling. This wasn't supposed to be happening. He was supposed to be stopping England and his crew and helping China recover. He couldn't afford to linger around feeling satisfied when there were bigger picture issues to address. But he supposed there was nothing he could do about it now…he didn't want to wake Greece again by leaving and besides, when it got down to it, he was feeling rather sleepy himself. He hadn't been sleeping for a while and he figured he owed it to himself…for only a while…

--

"So, like, let me get this straight." Poland was sitting cross-legged in a chair in his room, looking across the tea table at Lithuania, sitting meekly. "So, you quit Russia's clique and went to do your own things, say, and you totally found yourself at the Allies headquarters and used your skills to join the Allies?" When Lithuania nodded, Poland threw his hands up. "Totally radical, Liet! I, like, love your story! Why didn't you keep in contact with me, sweets? I could have, like, helped you!"

"Well, my point was to cut off all contact with this place and Russia would have definitely asked you if you talked to me."

"That's totally true." Poland paused in his celebration and leaned across the table with an expression of worry. "Russia was a wreck when you left. At first he got all violent, looking for you and totally blowing off at random people. Then…and this is totally scary…he quieted down. I'm totally not kidding, Liet. It was like the eye of a storm." Poland studied Lithuania's face. "I don't like this at all, Liet. I think you have to go. Russia'll get to ya again and I can't have that happening. Take everyone that came with you and just run."

"I can't. The captain's missing."

"Captain?"

"Yeah." Suddenly Lithuania's face lit up, surprising Poland. "Listen, you've been around! Have you seen someone like him? He's got blonde hair…he's sort of high maintenance and he's unmistakable."

Poland stared at him for a moment. "Well…I've heard of someone like that…but…you're not working for a pirate, are you?"

"Yes! I mean, no, but this pirate…where is he? Where have you seen him?"

"Well, I myself haven't laid eyes on this bad guy, but I heard he was on one of the nearby islands. Liet, what's up? Tell me, I can help you!"

"Please, what island was this pirate on?" Surely America would gravitate toward England. After all, it was his mission and the only reason America didn't come back from boredom was surely he found something relative to his job. "If we find England, I'm sure America will be close behind!"

"Alrighty, calm down. I'll draw a map. Liet, you're acting strange. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine!" His nerves were frazzled but otherwise he was great! "I think I'll go tell Sealand this, ok? I'm sure he wants to leave; he can hardly stay in one place either!"

"Sealand? The shrimp in the infirmary? Rowdy kid."

"Yes. Thank you so much Poland, I owe you." Feeling as if someone had pressed fast forward, he rushed out of Poland's room, leaving the blonde in a daze. He had walked through the hallways so fast he found himself pausing at the hallway where the infirmary was in a moment. Lithuania heard Sealand singing to himself.

"Yo ho ho, a pirate's life for me…nurse? Nurse! Hello! I'm kinda hungry! Can someone get some food?"

Smiling to himself, Lithuania started down to the infirmary when a hand gripped his shoulder. He knew who it was before he turned. He found he couldn't take another step – as if the hand summoned roots to take hold of his feet.

"Lithuania," Russia purred, leaning down to his ex-mercenary. "Where are you going off to in such a hurry?"

"I…" Feeling his mouth dry, Lithuania licked his lips. "I was going to see Sealand."

"Hmm. And what were you going to tell him?" Russia's violet eyes were shimmering strangely and Lithuania felt himself start to shake.

"I was just going to check up on him," Lithuania said softly, averting his eyes.

"Really? You weren't going to tell him you had found your little captain?" Lithuania jumped. It was as he feared; Russia had been listening in to his and Poland's conversation. He never felt safe in Russia's house; that man was everywhere and he had felt a little paranoid as he was telling Poland his story. Taking a breath, Lithuania attempted to explain himself when Russia pressed him against the wall.

"And that you were going to leave?" Russia pressed against Lithuania. "So soon? I thought you liked spending time with me." His voice had gotten dangerously smooth as he peered down at the trembling brunette. "I thought you _liked_ me, Lithuania. Surely that's why your heart's pounding so hard?"

True, his heart was skipping over itself. He felt suffocated with Russia breathing down his neck. He opened his mouth and the words spilled out before he could reign them in. "You scare me, Russia." Lithuania watched as Russia looked momentarily surprised. "I'm afraid of you. You've hurt me so much before…I don't know if I can trust you again, not to mention forgive you. I don't know…" Before he could continue, Russia has silenced him, pressing his lips against his forcefully.

"I'm sorry," Russia whispered, hardly sounding too apologetic. "I've changed, Lithuania. I want you to stay with me. I'm different now. Trust me." _The bed creaked slightly as the bodies on it shifted. Blood from Lithuania's back soaked into the sheets, turning them an unsightly red. Russia hovered over him, kissing his forehead with mock gentleness. "This won't hurt a bit," he assured the terrified mercenary, his hands keeping the young man beneath him still. "Trust me…_"

"Stop," Lithuania begged, trying to push Russia away but failing miserably. Russia chuckled at the effort and kissed him again.

"Why would you want me to stop," the larger man asked, "when you've obviously wanting me not to?" He smiled mysteriously and Lithuania felt an odd inborn instinct within him act and was surprised himself when he reached forward and pulled Russia closer.

"Nurse?" Sealand's cries fell on deaf ears, as the hallway outside his room was deserted.

--

Romano was awake before he opened his eyes. He let the smooth motion of the waves bobbing the boat overtake him before he finally opened them. He was alone in Spain's room and there had been no sign of the captain ever being in the room. Romano sat up, vaguely wondering where his noisy fiancé had gone off to.

"_I mean…you've been sailing with him for a while…do you actually like Spain now?"_

Romano scowled as he remembered his brother's question yesterday. "Like you know anything, you stupid little brother," he muttered, staring out the porthole.

"Romano! Can I come in?" Before Romano could have given any sign of permission, Rome had burst into his grandson's room. Spotting his startled grandson near the window, Rome rushed up to him. "Romano! There you are!"

"Haven't you heard of knocking and _waiting_?" Romano snapped.

"No time! There's someone I want you to meet!" Rome grabbed his hand and started dragging him toward the door when Romano pulled his hand away and smoothed the dress he had on.

"I can walk myself, thank you," he said coolly, gathering up the folds of his dress. "And which one of your friends did you bring this time?" It was tiring, putting up this charade and having to entertain every one of Rome's friends, whom he brought around to brag about his beautiful lady in waiting. He hated being in their company of lecherous glances and nosy questions.

"Actually, it's someone new," Rome explained as they walked down the hall. "He's in the throne room."

"Who _is_ he?"

"Your suitor."

Romano stopped his tracks, refusing to take another step. "Now listen here, gramps, I know you love this little game you've put me in, but come on! We both know I'm not what I seem and I definitely don't want to get married in this state! Especially not to a suitor you picked out! This is ridiculous!"

Rome pouted. "But Romano, people are getting suspicious. Someone in your status should have gotten married years ago! Just go along with it, alright? You'll make yourself suspicious if you don't play the role completely right! And it's only for a short while. Bear with me?"

"This is _ridiculous_!" Romano fumed.

"I know, please, Romano. It's only for a while. When you come of age, we're done, remember?"

Romano glared at Rome. It was hard to argue his case when he was decked out in a dress. "_Fine_," he grounded out. "But you can't expect me to like this guy you picked out."

Rome breathed a sigh of relief. "He's a nice guy, though, Romano. I hope you'll give him a shot."

"_I'm not going to get married_!"

"We're here!" Rome interrupted, thrusting open the doors. There was only one person in the room, and he turned to face them as the doors opened. Romano steeled his heart and stepped in, ready to stomp violently on this suitor's heart when…he _stumbled_.

The suitor in question had curly black hair that fell slightly over bright brown eyes, complimented with a charming smile. He strode up to Rome, who had walked up to greet him, leaving Romano to stare dumbfoundedly at the door. "Ah, _Buenos dias, Senor Rome_!"

"Spain! So good to see you again!" Rome turned to Romano, still staring and looking rather flushed. "I'd like you to meet my daughter, the younger sibling to the heirs! Come over here, Romano!"

_This cannot be happening._

"Hi!" Spain chirped, sounding completely carefree as Romano stepped over. "My name is Spain, and I'm the high captain of the Balkan navy! Nice to meet you!"

Romano opened his mouth and found he had forgotten what he wanted to say. "That's nice," he came up with, knowing his putdown was rather weak.

"And you are…?" Spain prompted.

"None of your business," Romano snapped, relieved he had regained his sharp edge, ignoring Rome's look of 'behave-yourself'. He felt himself waver again as Spain smiled at him.

"Come now. You can at least tell me your name."

"I'm Romano."

"I see. May I call you _senorita_ Romano?" The strange accent sounded so exotic, making the name sound oddly intimate. Romano felt his face flare red again.

"Plain Romano is fine," he said, keeping his voice steady.

_I cannot be falling for someone I don't even know_.

"This is wonderful!" Rome cried, clapping hands. "It's great the introductions went well! I'll leave you two to break the ice! Play nice, you two!" Skipping out of the throne room and away from the murderous hands of his grandson, Rome shut the door behind him. Romano had started to make a movement to the door when he was startled by Spain grasping one of his hands.

Bending one knee, Spain kissed Romano's hand, the epitome of a perfect gentleman. He had his eyes averted from Romano's face, so he was unaware of how red his fiancée's face had gotten. "Romano, I know this has been organized by Rome…but would you mind me taking your hand in marriage?"

…_right?_

"I don't want to get married!" Romano squeaked, pulling his hand away. "I don't think girls should have to get married if they don't want to! Especially to people other people pick for them! I think I should be able to marry whoever I want to!" Spain looked at him for a moment before standing up and straightening himself out.

"I thought you'd say that."

"What?"

Spain smiled sheepishly. "Rome said you'd be a handful. And I agree with you; I think marriage should be determined by the person. I don't think people should be forced together. But the boss says we have to get married, so we have to get married, eh?"

"Not if I don't want to marry you," Romano retorted. "Marriage is stupid. I don't think I should have to be shackled down by a husband. Why, I like doing what I want to…_what are you doing_?"

Spain paused; he had been running a hand through Romano's hair. "Oh…your hair looked soft, so I wanted to touch it."

Romano's face, which seemed to have recovered from its blush attack, pinkened again. "You touch people you hardly know? That's gross!" Backing away, Romano tried again to hold his own.

"Don't be like that. You can touch mine if you want." Grasping Romano's hands, Spain led them to his own head, running Romano's fingers through his dark locks. "See? Now we're even!" They were now even closer than before, Romano falling against Spain's chest.

Romano felt his knees quiver and cursed. He cursed again as he pulled his wrists away and started to the door, heading for his room. Spain followed him, confused.

"Romano! We're supposed to be talking…where're you going?"

"Go away!" Romano hurried down the hall, but Spain was taller than him and his longer legs quickly caught up to the escaping fiancée. "If Rome told you you had to talk to me, I can also order you too! You can go!" His heart was pounding too hard for him to like the situation.

"But Romano…"

"_Go away_!" Stopping in his tracks, Romano finally turned to Spain. "I don't want to marry you! I wish we didn't talk at all! I wish we'd never met!" he shouted ruefully, his eyes pleading with Spain to leave him alone. The taller man looked at him for a moment before taking Romano's hand once more.

"Romano," he said, sounding careful, "I know arranged marriages are a little abrupt, but I think I can grow to like you. Will you give me a chance?"

"A chance…?" Romano flushed and pulled his hand away. "Go away!" Dashing to his room, Romano was relieved that Spain had not followed him and he could regain his posture in the privacy of his quarters.

Granted, Spain did not stay away for long.

"Ma'am, he's waiting in your room for you," the maid murmured, trailing after Romano at a respectable distance. The brunette glared back at her with a scowl.

"What on earth are you talking about? Who?" When the maid didn't reply, but merely smiled at the floor as if she knew a secret he didn't, Romano hastened his pace to his room and threw open the door, expecting Rome blabbering about another scheme he hatched up or a rare visit from his bothersome little brother.

He hadn't been ready to see a rather forlorn-looking Spain staring out his window, brightening when he saw Romano in the doorway.

"Why would you let him in?" Romano demanded, turning to the maid, who was already scampering away. Grumbling to himself, the twin closed the door behind him, ready to give Spain the tongue lashing he deserved. "Why are you here?"

"Ah, Romano! Forgive me for coming here out of the blue…but I wanted to talk to you! I hope you won't mind."

Romano felt his face twitch into a grimace.

"Alright, but make it short," he grumbled further, unsure of why he was willing to listen to Spain in the first place. The navy captain looked relieved, stepping forward to Romano as if to greet him when Romano breezed past, making his way to the window seat. In his haste, he tripped over the obnoxiously long hem of his dress and started tumbling forward, reaching out to catch himself as Spain did so, saving Romano from falling on his face. In the process, the curly haired man accidentally brushed his hand against his chest, and Romano considered the fact that it would have been a rather embarrassing situation, had he actually been a woman. He smirked as Spain pulled his hand away quickly.

"_Lo siento_," Spain said quickly, flushing.

"It's quite alright," Romano replied, smirking and feeling the control he had over the moment. He sat down on the window seat, feeling a bit triumphant. Despite the fact that the latter had not made any movement to invite him there, Spain sat down next to Romano.

"I've been thinking since the last time we saw each other," Spain said slowly, sounding careful as if he were choosing his words carefully. He had his eyes trained on the floor, as if the ground could help him out. Pausing, he finally looked up at Romano with sincere brown eyes. "I think I've fallen in love with you, Romano."

Romano felt his face flush uncomfortably. "That's impossible," he blurted, his words whizzing past his mouth at breakneck speed. "We've just met."

"I know. But I can't stop thinking about you." Romano didn't know how to take this: part of him was proud of the fact that not only did he occupy the castle, but another person's thoughts, and part of him was horrified of that very fact. Spain scooted closer, making Romano scoot away. "You're just…so _beautiful_ and so _free_…traits I love in a woman."

Thank goodness he wasn't a woman than! "Free?" Romano asked, knowing his voice was rising in pitch. "Why, so you can chain me to the house?"

"Of course not!" Spain had reached to grasp Romano's hand but missed as he was busy staring into startled brown eyes and instead gripped the latter's knee, resulting in a loud yelp. Quickly removing his hand, Spain rushed on. "What I meant to say was…there are so many women in the world who are willing to do anything for their husbands…but I like a woman who can think for herself. That's what you do, Romano." Spain leaned in closer again and Romano backed away again.

"I think maybe you should think this over," Romano urged, feeling his thoughts collide painfully with each other. "I mean, really…we've just met, so you can't be sure if what you feel is love or attraction or maybe you're just crazy and you don't know what you're talking about."

"It's love," Spain said, sounding confident. "I love _you_, Romano. I've never felt this way toward anyone else before." He leaned closer still and Romano was horrified to find out he was already at the edge of the seat. "Romano," Spain whispered, closing in so the smaller could feel his breath on his face. Romano grappled at the end of the seat, lifting his leg up to kick Spain away when he discovered the hellish dress not only made him look girly but was restrictive. He turned away quick enough for Spain to kiss his ear and stood up at the touch.

"Okay, okay, that is definitely not okay. You can't do that. You're pressuring me now! Rome won't like that! If you do that again…I'll…I'll tell on you!" Romano figured if he was thinking straight, he could come up with a better threat, but his mind was fuzzy and he wasn't sure what he just spoken anyway.

But Spain seemed to have snapped out of it himself. "Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry, Romano! I don't know what went over me! I'm sorry, I'll sit away from you." Walking over to the opposite side of the window seat, he sat down and looked at Romano remorsefully. "Please sit down," he begged. "I really didn't mean it; I just wanted to talk to you."

Warily, Romano kept his eyes trained on Spain as he slowly sank down at the window seat again. Spain seemed true to his word, looking absolutely sheepish as he tried to jumpstart the conversation again. "So…um…Romano…I was wondering…your hair is really short. It's kind of like a boy's…do you like it that way?"

Romano smirked to himself. Even if Rome made him put on a dress and pretend to be a woman, he would not submit to growing his hair out long, even if he had to cut it himself. Rome had finally relented and got a barber after Romano finished hacking his hair away one time – after that, Rome figured it would be wiser to have a short haired lady in waiting than a lady in waiting with a beaver on her head. "You just said I was pretty. Now you say I look like a boy? So who exactly do you like, Spain, men or women?"

"If you like someone, it can be with either gender," Spain replied, rather smartly.

"You sound like you've had experience."

"Well, I was known for being very passionate back in Madrid!"

Romano crossed his arms and studied Spain. "So you're someone who's very easy."

"That's not true." Spain leaned forward, resting on his knees and staring back at Romano. "When I'm in a relationship with someone, I'm loyal to that person to the end."

Romano had _wanted_ to trap Spain into saying something, anything unsavory but he was just getting denied every single time. It didn't help that the answers made his heart curl into strange shapes and Spain's smile made him want to throw something. It also didn't help that the man was always there – riding next to him as he visited the villages on the border or dancing with him at the damn winter formal. Yes, Spain made himself a part of Romano's life, and that itself was the reason for the whole mess.

"Ah, miss, there's someone waiting in your room but Rome would like him to be present when you talk…"

"Spain? Oh, then never mind Rome." Romano rushed down the hallway, leaving the flustered maid in his wake. "I can talk to him myself. You can tell Rome to take his time."

"But, miss…!"

Throwing open his bedroom door, ignoring the butterflies in his stomach, Romano looked around to see Spain, probably poking through his belongings. He hadn't expected to see a mysterious masked man, standing in wait.

"Who are you?"

"I, my dear princess, am going to take you away…"

"Stupid Spain," Romano murmured, staring out the porthole onto deck. Spain was already awake and observing the deck, along with Feliciano, who was dragging Germany around like a pet. Spain had not gone into his quarters, where Romano had been sleeping undisturbed, and was still looking rumpled in his clothing.

"I guess I've liked you for a while already."

To be continued

--

Notes: There. Here's your reward for reading so far: immense amounts of Spain/Romano fluff, smaller dosages of Greece/Japan and Russia/Liet. Happy?!

The original chapter I wrote is not this version. I accidentally deleted it, causing myself to freak out. This is the fragments of the original version I can remember, thus why it might come out a bit strained. I must do that for the next two chapters. Next problem: I strangely do not feel like writing. It must be late summer lethargy.

But YOU can do something about that! Review, and the next chapter MAY be out sooner! And as a little spoiler, it includes some Germany/Italy and England (sort of, maybe) coming into terms with his feelings! You don't want to miss! All you have to do is…click the little review button and leave a review! Easy, no??


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: If Axis Powers Hetalia were mine, I wouldn't need to write fanfics. If any of these songs were mine, I wouldn't be writing fanfics.**

Background music: ---

**Minimal fluff 09!**

I saw how people were confused about telling the difference between regular breaks and flashback breaks. If you look carefully, normal breaks are differentiated with a "--" and flashbacks have a "~" before and after. Sorry for not clarifying.

--

Of Seamen and Landlubbers 12

Romano had changed; everyone on the _Valiente_ could see that. Italy watched as his brother talked to Spain, and even Spain seemed surprised at how docile the older heir had become as of late. Italy wondered what on earth could have possessed his foul-mouthed, violent mess of a brother into a quiet, listening, decent person. It was scary, even if it was a nice change.

"Italy." Italy jumped and turned, a wide smile gracing his features as he saw Germany walk up to him.

"Germany! Is something wrong?"

"It's getting dark," Germany pointed out, gesturing at the falling night around them. "You should be getting some sleep."

"Oh. I suppose so." Walking below deck, Italy made his way to his room with Germany in tow. Germany didn't even have time to close the door and turn away modestly when Italy stripped himself of most of his clothes. The blonde flushed and tried to look elsewhere when Italy bound up to him. "Ne, Germany, why don't you come to bed too?"

"I will, in a while."

Italy pouted. "You always say that, but whenever I wake up, you're never next to me and you sleep on the floor! It's a lot more comfortable on a bed, you know. Or…maybe…you don't like me?" Germany was startled as the younger heir started tearing up. "Is that it? You won't sleep with me because you don't like me?"

"That's…that's not it," Germany stammered, trying to avoid a weeping Italy on his hands. How could he say the reason he preferred to sleep on the floor was the very opposite of that reason? He supposed he could humor Italy for one night…it couldn't be any damage. "Fine," he said, relenting. "I'll sleep with you tonight."

"Really? You would? Yay!" Italy started reaching for Germany's shirt and helped him pull it off. Germany put a stop to the declothing when Italy reached for his pants: "The pants stay on."

Italy pouted but was still smiling when he pulled Germany onto the bed next to him. "It's not so bad," he assured the somewhat hesitant blonde. "See? The bed's really soft and the sheets get warm really fast."

Truth be told, the bed was more comfortable than the floor. Germany decided the best way to get the whole experience over with was to get to sleep immediately. This was a harrowing task, as Italy was staring at him with big brown eyes that were illuminated by the oil lamp on the bedside table. "Hey, Germany…I've got a question for you."

"Hmm?"

"Um…before you met Spain…where did you live?"

Germany almost wanted to ask if that was all. The buildup hinted to a more dramatic question and all he had to answer was this? "Well, before I joined the Balkan army, I lived in a little city called Munich in the Kaiser region. It's a north of Rome's palace."

"Oh, I know where that is!" Italy smiled. "And how did you join Spain's navy?"

"I was jumping in between a lot of jobs and one of my bosses suggested with my skills, I should invest in the navy. There was not much else I could do, so I joined the Balkan Navy Academy and graduated to serve under Spain's orders. I worked up to what I am now."

Italy listened quietly to Germany's story, with an inextinguishable little smile. When Germany was done, he seemed to want to ask something else. When Germany turned to him, the heir blurted it out. "And…and when you left Munich…did…did you leave anyone behind?"

Italy suddenly looked really small and had looked away from Germany's eyes onto the sheets, as if he was physically afraid of the answer. Germany frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean…did you leave behind a family? Kids? A pretty wife?" Italy laughed nervously, tracing figure eights on the sheets with a finger. There was a feeling of skittishness, like a rabbit that sensed danger.

Germany paused before answering. "No. I lived alone with my three dogs and occasionally by mooching older brother. I never married."

"I love dogs! How were they? What's your brother's name? Why weren't you married?" The questions flooded out and Italy suddenly looked cheerful again. Germany watched Italy stumble over himself amusedly.

"They were all decent dogs, never barking unless they had to. My annoying brother calls himself Prussia; our parents separated and I lived with our father in the western part of the Kaiser region and he lived with our mother in the east. I never married because…I guess I was never looking for someone. No one was interested anyway." Germany answered every single question on the mark, as if he had been asked by a teacher in a particularly taxing class. Italy looked surprised.

"No one was interested? Why not? I mean, you'd be really nice to her, and you'd protect her and you'd help her through anything and you're really good looking too…" Italy trailed off and quickly changed the subject as Germany gave him a strange look. "Oh! What's this?"

Germany sat up slightly so Italy could closely examine the cross that hung around his neck. It was an elaborate pendant, covered with gold, red, and black. Italy held it in his fingers, looking thoughtful. "It's the symbol for my squad," Germany explained, feeling proud. "Every member has the same cross. It identifies us as a unit."

"It's very neat," Italy breathed. "It must mean your squad is very close, right?"

"That's right." On a spontaneous instinct, Germany reached into the depths of a pocket and pulled out an identical chain with a cross. Italy's eyes widened as the blonde undid the clasp and wound the chain around his neck. "It's so I can figure you out from your brother," Germany explained hastily. "You two look alike, and sometimes I have trouble telling which is which." That was a highly unlikely situation, as Italy and Romano were _very_ different and Germany had never approached Romano thinking he was Italy before. Still, it sounded like a solid reason and Germany was going to go with it.

"So you're giving it to me?" Italy squealed with excitement as Germany nodded curtly and threw his arms around the stoic blonde's neck. "Thank you so much, Germany! I love you so much!" Feeling the man stiffen in his embrace, Italy broke away, looking slightly embarrassed. "Oh…right, you're not used to that yet…it's just something I say a lot!"

That was true. Germany remembered nearly having a heart attack when he'd overheard Italy declaring his love to a random crew member. He had since gotten used to it, as he'd also heard Italy saying the same phrase to everyone on board, his brother and Spain included. It was like breathing to Italy to say those three words. Still, it was awkward whenever they were directed at him.

"I think we should all tell whoever we love that we love them! Everything would be a lot better if we all told each other we cared for each other! Then people wouldn't fight all the time." Italy nodded at his philosophy, fingering the cross around his neck absentmindedly. There was another silence and Germany felt the beginnings of something problematic coming up.

"Um…Germany?"

"Hmm?"

"Would…" Italy faltered, sounding uncharacteristically unsure of himself. "Would you say that to me?"

Germany felt his face flush but kept his voice in control. "Say what to you?"

"I love you."

Okay, this he was not expecting. Italy stared up at him expectantly and he cleared his throat, trying to regain control of the situation. "Well…" he started, "it's not something someone says lightly."

Italy nodded slowly.

"You've got to mean it when you say it."

"I mean it whenever I say it!" Italy insisted.

"I don't say that a lot. _I've_ got to mean it when I say it."

Italy had started tracing eights again. When Germany stopped talking, he looked up, looking a mix between scared and anticipating. "And _would_ you mean it if you said it?"

This was definitely not the direction he wanted this conversation to be heading. Quickly turning to the oil lamp, Germany snuffed it out with a hasty, "We should be getting some sleep, Italy. It's going to be a long day ahead of us tomorrow, since we've got a week left before we reach Rome's palace."

"But…"

"You should be getting some sleep." Germany turned so his back was facing Italy.

There was silence and Germany heard Italy rustle around in the darkness. "Germany," the small voice said, "I just wanted you to say it…but it's okay if you don't." There was another rustle and Germany felt Italy settle down next to him without another word.

He knew something uncomfortable like this would happen if he laid next to Italy.

_Hey West_! Wow. He was trying to think of anything _but_ the heir next to him and the anything now included his irksome brother. _Don't be so goddamn stubborn, you antisocial freak!_

Shut up, Prussia.

_You've got to be more honest with yourself! How else do you expect to get laid? No wonder why no one likes you. I wouldn't like you myself._

Even from seas away, his brother was annoying beyond belief.

--

England had not been eating much lately. Usually taking his food to his room, he now sat at the table picking at the food like a sulking child. Finally, he excused himself and left the dining room to the haven of his room yet again. France and Canada watched him go.

"What's getting his panties in a knot?" France asked. Canada shrugged. Neither had seen their captain act so moodily, and England was infamously known for being moody. It was an unnerving sight to see, especially in their position as outlaws, as defined by Allies law.

Finland came into the room and started clearing the table as if he had been doing it all his life. Spotting England's untouched food, he frowned as he collected France and Canada's plates off the table. "England hasn't been eating? Is something wrong? Maybe he doesn't like it? Perhaps I should cook him something else."

"Oh no! Your cooking his _magnifique_, as usual!" France turned on the charm to distract Finland from the predicament at hand, earning him an eye roll from Canada. "Really, you should quit your labors and become a full time housewife, my dear!" He seemed to be reaching for Finland's ass when the latter danced out of the way just in time.

"Thank you for the compliment," Finland said graciously, unaffected by the unabashed show of attention. "But it's unhealthy not to eat. Is there anything England likes that I could make?"

"It's probably nothing," Canada assured. "He's just got a lot on his mind. I'll take it to him and maybe he'll listen to me."

"That's a good idea," Finland smiled. "I hope things cheer up for you guys. The ship'll be repaired in about a week or so, so you can get to whatever you do." Leaving them with another sympathetic smile, Finland went to do the dishes as Canada gave France an incredulous look.

"I hardly think that kind of seduction is called for in situations like that," Canada said, standing up and picking up the untouched plate.

"Oh? Don't worry! I only seduce _you_, Canada."

Canada sighed exasperatedly, ignoring the flush on his face. He was starting on his way to England's room when France called him again. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to make England eat."

"I'll miss you."

Ducking into the hallway before France could call anything else embarrassing, Canada berated himself for constantly being open to the affectionate co-pilot's advances. _Even_ if they were now engaging in little hush-hush activities behind closed doors did _not_ mean he was game for inappropriateness. Composing himself as he had reached England's room, he knocked on the door, hoping his captain was in a good mood.

"Come in, Canada."

Canada poked his head in, smiling slightly. "You could always tell it was me, England." When England didn't reply, but continued staring at the map in front of him on the desk, Canada slipped into the room. "What're you doing?"

"Planning out a course for us when the UKB sets sail again."

Canada walked up to England and put the food down next to him. He decided not to mention that England had been using that excuse for a while. "England, you should eat," he said quietly, staring at his captain through his glasses. "Is something wrong?"

"No. Nothing's wrong."

"Who were you shooting at a few days ago in the rain?"

"No one. I just felt like practicing my shots."

"England."

"I was shooting at your brother, okay? It was your stupid brother America!" England seemed surprised at his outburst and looked away.

"America? He was here?"

"Yes. He came out of nowhere when I was trying to cover the merchandise."

"What did he do?"

"What else is he good at doing?" England asked ruefully, sliding the map away from him and collapsing into the chair. "Spouting nonsense about justice and all that crap."

Skipping over the fact that there should be a danger level present with America so close in proximity, Canada sat down in the bed behind England. "So what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong."

"Is he coming? To arrest us, I mean?"

"I don't know. I don't think so. He was alone and he doesn't have any reason to."

There was a silence and Canada toed a stray thread on the floor. "What's going on between you and my brother?"

"Nothing!" England turned, his face red. "He's just been annoying me, that's all!"

"I think I should know anything that concerns my brother." Canada looked earnestly at England, who looked away again. "If he's threatening you, then I could talk to him. He'll listen to me. What did he say to you?"

"You look a lot like him, you know?" Canada blinked at the comparison. "But you're better. You don't jump to conclusions like he does. You're not a cheeky bastard who noses into things he shouldn't. You don't do things that are uncalled for."

Canada studied England, who was staring determinedly at a corner of the room with a flushed face, looking a little angry. He was never considered a genius at reading the atmosphere, but surely England wasn't…?

"Forget I said anything," the blonde said suddenly, startling Canada out of his thoughts. "I'm alright, so tell that wino that there's nothing to worry about. Thanks for coming to talk to me, Canada." England still sounded angry, which was an unhealthy state for him to be in, both toward himself and to the people around him. Standing up, Canada contemplated if he should or should not act on the hunch that had taken form in his brain and decided, why the hell not?

"You should eat," the meek co-pilot suggested, walking over to England. "We're counting on you to hold us together, you know. We can't have you kneeling over just because my brother pisses you off, eh." Smiling a little deviously, Canada leaned down and kissed England on the cheeks, flaring up the red already present on the pirate's cheeks. Canada was making his way to the door when England spoke up again.

"America kissed me. And I'm confused."

Canada's hand ghosted over the door knob before he stared at the door and took a deep breath. Swiping his hand away from the knob, he turned back into the room, at a helpless England.

"Go on."

--

When Lithuania finally woke up, Russia was gone. Sitting up in the tangle of sheets, he didn't know if he was more bothered by the growing headache or the fact that his pants were across the room. Who had thrown them that far? He thought they had shrugged off their clothing on the way to the bed.

Which led to the reason for his headache: he had just had sex with Russia.

What had he done? Certainly, it wasn't the first time, but it was the first time he'd consented to it. There was the absence of the familiar fear, the physical pain, and the awful mental anguish. True, he was ungodly sore at the moment, but it was as Russia said. Things had changed.

He was just buttoning his shirt when Poland burst in. "Like, Liet! I got the map already but then I totally couldn't find you! I went to see that little twerp and he was like, 'Oh, Lithuania didn't come see me and I'm hungry' and I told him he should have seen you and I didn't have any food and then we totally argued like crazy and I was running around tryin' to find you! Then I ran into Russia and he was all smiley, smiley and told me you were 'predisposed' at the moment and…" Poland stopped as he finally got his bearings and noticed the state of undress his friend was in and exactly what room he had burst into. "Like, whoa, Liet," he said after a thought. "You _were_ totally predisposed after all!"

"Please don't make it sound like that."

"Liet! Why didn't you ever tell me you were sleeping with Russia? I thought you didn't like the guy! This is totally news to me, sweets." Poland sank into a nearby chair. "Like, how long was this happening?"

Lithuania turned away, trying to collect the other stray articles of clothing on the floor and speaking without looking at his friend. "It happened before I left…but I never liked it."

"You?" Poland's eyes widened. "Like, oh my gee, Liet. That's not good! You should have told me he was abusing you like that! You went around and we all thought it was all okay. Liet, not good!" The blonde studied his friend, who was determinedly not looking at him. "But, like, you sounded like you didn't mind it this time around. Tell me that's totally not what you meant!"

"It wasn't like that," Lithuania protested, although it was a very weak attempt. Poland cocked his head.

"Don't, like, take this the wrong way, Liet. I mean, I love you and all but…you're the kind of person who's totally susceptible to Stockholm's Syndrome, you know? You're very nice so you can't bring yourself to hate anyone really…but this isn't good at all. I mean, we all totally knew Russia was in his twisted way head over heels for you, but this is totally unhealthy!"

Lithuania laughed ruefully as he finished putting the room back in order and turned to Poland with a resigned expression. "Oh, don't I know that already."

To be continued

--

Note: I hope I satisfied your fluff factor. I find Germany/Italy too cute to resist. And England doesn't really come into terms with his feelings, I suppose…but it'll be explained away in the next chapter! So look out for that! And I can't help but make Russia/Liet anything but angst…sorry. I've got a lot on my plate right now! But I'll do my best to update! Thanks for understanding, and last of all, review!


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: If Axis Powers Hetalia were mine, I wouldn't need to write fanfics. If any of these songs were mine, I wouldn't be writing fanfics.**

Background music: ---

**Minimal fluff 09!**

--

Of Seamen and Landlubbers 13

"So, what did England have to say?"

Canada blinked as he leaned up against France, sitting up against the headboard in bed. The latter had not mentioned anything during the course of the day since Canada left England alone and he definitely didn't seem like he had it in his mind when they were engaging in rather enjoyable activities together they had finished moments before.

When Canada remained silent, France sighed and ran his fingers through the blonde boy's hair. "Did he do his little 'pact of silence' with you or something?"

"Not exactly…"

_I guess you can go ahead and tell France_, England had said. _It's not like you could keep it from him for very long anyway_.

"Then tell me, _cheri_! It's unhealthy to keep things bottled up like this." France smiled confidently, leaning down to peck Canada on the lips. "What kind of dirty secrets has our captain been hiding from us?"

Canada groaned, nuzzling into France's side. "I guess I should tell you…but you've got to promise not to tease him about it." Looking up, he saw France's 'no promises' look and frowned. "Promise me first."

"Alright, anything for you," France sighed, waving a hand about. "But it better be worth it."

England seemed mortified that he'd said anything as Canada crossed the room to sit on his bed again. "I mean, it's not that big of a deal or anything. You'd have to be off your rocker to think it really meant anything to me…"

"England." Canada smiled slightly. "A kiss, no matter who gives it, always means something to the recipient."

England flushed and covered part of his face with a hand. "I know I shouldn't be thinking about it…after all, he _is_ part of the Allies…"

"Tell me what happened," Canada prompted, trying not to look overeager.

Staring off into space, England tried to pretend no one else was in the room so no one could hear about his secret shame. "I was going out to cover the shipment when he just came out of nowhere. He was being all bothersome as usual, ranting about justice and illegal activities and he was letting everything get wet. So obviously I wasn't going to stand around and have him press my buttons so I got up in his face and made something about it. Then he just…you know…" Groping around for a more glorifying word, England found none and resigned to the truth. "…he just…kissed me."

Canada watched him. "Why would he do that?"

"I don't know. Maybe he was trying to get me off guard? But it doesn't make sense why he'd do it twice…"

"Twice?"

England's face flushed redder. "When he boarded the UKB the first time…" He didn't have the bottle to finish the sentence but Canada pieced together the story still the same. "It's annoying!" he burst out, startling the other blonde. "It doesn't _mean_ anything but I can't get him out of my head!" England glared pure murder at the unlit oil lamp on the table as if it were America himself. "Stupid America…"

"England…" It wasn't good if they were just beating around the bush. "England…how do you feel…towards my brother?"

"I can't," England whispered, turning away from Canada completely. "I know I can't…do you think he likes me or something?" He turned back, staring at Canada for verification. "Why else would he kiss me? Right?"

Canada leaned back, thinking things through. "I can't say I agree with that, eh," he said slowly. "After all, he is an Allies member. Now he's found you, he's probably trying to mess with you. If you let him get any closer, he might find out about the shipment and we'll all get taken in." Canada took a deep breath. "I think it's a trick."

For a split second, England's face fell before resuming apathy. "I thought that might be a reason."

"So you can't see him anymore."

England scoffed. "Like I'd want to."

"He's on the island, then. We're going to have to get the ship fixed. Soon. He'll probably try and get backup or something." Even Canada knew they didn't have time if America was going to play around with England. The ship was still a considerable piece to be fixed, even though Estonia and Latvia were working as hard as they could. "I'm going to find him and talk to him," Canada said aloud. "I'll tell him to stay away from you."

"Just like that?"

"Yes." Canada nodded. "He'll listen to me. I'm sure he'll back off and while he finds another way to infiltrate us, we'll get our ship fixed and we'll be steps ahead of him."

England was quiet, before nodding. "You're completely right, Canada. I don't know what came over me. If you didn't talk some sense into me, I'd go completely crazy." Running a hand through his hair, England looked at Canada, still deep in thought. "I guess you can go ahead and tell France," he mused. "It's not like you could keep it from him for very long anyway."

"What do you mean by that?" Canada asked, his face flushing. England chuckled.

"It's not exactly a secret, what you two are up to. Everyone knows he's had his eye on you for a while and these walls," England said, knocking on one for emphasis, "aren't exactly the thickest kinds out there."

"So everyone's heard us," Canada said, feeling a bit numb.

England nodded, a smirk playing on his face. "But France needs someone like you to rein him in. He's a complete loose cannon."

Cutting the conversation to a close, Canada shot up and reached the door before England could say anymore. "Are you okay now, England?"

"I'm fine, thank you."

Canada rested his hand on the door. "Don't think about it anymore, okay? Or else he'll get to you."

"Please. I don't even want to look at that man ever again." There was a slight longing in those green eyes that made Canada have a hard time believing him, but there was nothing the latter could do so he left, leaving England to his thoughts again.

"So you're going to talk to this America by yourself?" France asked. He had given his entire attention to Canada's story, looking surprised in the right places. He had wrapped an arm around the blonde, giving Canada a sense of strange security.

"If anyone goes with me, he'll know something's up. It'll just be a brother-to-brother talk. He values the idea of family, you know." Canada leaned against France's shoulder. "But I'm surprised England became like this. It's very unlike him."

"Indeed." France tapped his chin. "That brother of yours must be one hell of a person if it's gotten England all riled up like this."

"America was always quick to argue," Canada agreed. "He would have become friends with England easily under different circumstances."

"Maybe even more than friends," France grinned, chuckling as Canada hit him lightly against the head. "But you can't tease England about it," Canada reminded him. "He'll hate me if you mention it."

"Now why would I do something like that?" France asked, the worst imitation of innocence.

--

Spain yawned and stretched as he stepped outside his cabin and was greeted with a very unusual sight. Romano was cleaning the deck, deck brush included. Spain blinked and rubbed his eyes to see if it was real. It had to be last night's burning of the midnight oil getting to him.

But no. It really was his fiancée swabbing the deck like a crew member.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Romano! You don't have to do that." Spain crossed the deck, careful not to slip on the gleaming wet surface. Gently grasping the deck brush, he stopped the uneven strokes Romano was attending to. "Romano, what's gotten into you lately? You're acting really strange."

"I don't want to be a burden," Romano murmured, staring down at the floor.

Shivers almost leapt up Spain's spine. Did he really just hear Romano say that? "Listen, Romano, you're not a burden at all! Why would you ever think that?" When Romano didn't say anything, but remained staring down, Spain sighed. "Don't think this'll make me stop calling you a princess. Because you'll always be a princess in my eyes."

Romano twitched. "Don't call me that."

"What? Princess? Princess Romano?" Spain laughed as he dodged a punch thrown in his direction. Romano finally looked like himself, like he should – burning eyes and a flaming intensity. Romano wasn't a docile, castle-ridden woman he had fallen in love with. "That's more like it, _princess_."

"Don't call me that!" Romano had taken the deck brush back and was trying to attack Spain with it. The captain nimbly jumped out of reach, winking as he made his way up deck. "I'm glad you're back to normal, Romano."

What was that supposed to mean? Throwing the deck brush onto the floor, Romano stormed over to the side and glared out at the waves lapping against the boat.

Feliciano poked his head out from the stairs. He thought he'd heard Spain's voice with Romano's but the Balkan navy captain was nowhere to be seen. Romano was all by himself at the railing. Perfect. He'd wanted to speak to his brother and silently skipped across deck to tap his twin on the shoulder. "Ve, Romano…"

"What do you _want_?" Romano turned with a glare back at him and Italy stepped back. This was no longer the quiet, listening Romano of days past. Although it was assuring that Romano was back to normal, he didn't want to discuss things with angry Romano.

"I just wanted to talk to you," Italy said softly. Romano's look turned from angry to mild irritation as he turned back out to the horizon. "What do you want to say?"

"Um…" Italy walked up next to Romano and leaned against the railing too. "It's about…it's about Germany…"

"What? That you love him and you want to have his children?" It seemed the most obvious thing to say but Romano was surprised when Italy jumped a foot in the air.

"How did you know?!" his twin yelped.

"It's obvious," Romano said, a bit dazed. "The way you hang about him and the way you look at him. I thought everyone knew."

"Everyone _knew_?" Italy covered his face with his hands. "_Everyone knew_?"

"Yeah. It was completely obvious." Romano didn't know if he wanted to smirk or scoff. "But I don't know why you'd choose such a boring person. Germany's such a tool. All he does is follow orders and he doesn't talk."

"Germany's not like that. He's a nice person. See? See what he gave me last night?" Pulling the cross and chain from around his neck, Italy shoved it in Romano's face. "See? See?"

"What else did you two do last night?" Romano asked suspiciously. Italy's face reddened.

"Nothing! We just talked! …and that's why I want to talk to you." Italy's face fell. "I like him a whole lot."

"We all know."

"But I don't think he likes me back."

Romano raised an eyebrow. "How would you know?"

"Because! Whenever I talk to him, he always looks like he doesn't want to be there. Whenever I hug him, he always pushes me away. If I tell him I love him, he says I should be serious." Italy looked forlorn. "So he can't possibly like me."

"But he stays with you," Romano pointed out. "On this big ship, he could have easily avoided you. But he keeps going around with you like he's your personal bodyguard."

Italy shrugged. "Maybe," he said softly. "I really want him to like me, Romano. I've never wanted anything so much in my entire life!"

Romano grumbled. "Then why don't you just tell him?" It would save him from having his ear chewed off about the subject. He didn't like Germany to begin with, therefore he hated this conversation. But if his brother was happy and Germany floated his boat, Romano decided he'd just look the other way and pretend all was well.

"Tell him?" Italy looked nervous. "But what if he says no?"

"Then I'll beat the shit out of him!" Romano waved his fist around. "I've wanted to for a long time but you're always around."

Italy looked at his brother, before breaking out in a sunny beam. "Thank you, Romano! You're the best!" Glomping his brother, Italy held his resisting brother tight. "I'm so glad we're together and we'll all be back with Rome in a week!"

"I don't want to go back to Rome." Romano had spoken so softly that Italy nearly didn't catch it. Breaking away, Italy looked at his brother again. "What?"

"I don't want to stay at the palace," Romano muttered. "It's not fun. I don't want to stay in those four walls forever. I don't want people to come to me and dote on me. I like being free. I didn't like Turkey, but I liked being away from the palace. And Rome pisses me off."

"You can't stay here forever," Italy reminded him.

"Who says? If Rome says I can't, then I'll run away!"

"Romano!" Italy giggled. "Maybe you should stay with Spain!"

Shoving his brother away, Romano glowered. "Don't say stupid things like that. I like going around by myself. This stupid boat is weighing me down. And you're disgusting. You'd fit in the palace. Maybe Rome will let you wear dresses again."

"I hope so!" Italy squealed.

"You disgust me," Romano grumbled, before looking at Italy seriously. "But really…I think you should just tell Germany. Why the hell not, right? Like you said, we'll be at Rome's in a week's time and you'll never see him again. So go for it. Just don't come crying to me when he rejects you."

"Okay." Italy smiled bravely. "You're the best, Romano." He skipped away before Romano could hit him, smiling to himself as he went below deck to his room again. How would Germany react if he was wakened by him in nothing but that frilly white apron? He'd have to find out!

--

Japan was standing on the docks, staring out at the water. The salty spray was refreshing on his face and the waves crashing against the docks was soothing. He had been learned in the art of silence and he could truly take every sound to heart, from the seagulls calls to the chatterings of peasants.

"Japan."

Greece walked up behind the ninja, following the young man's point of view until it disappeared somewhere along the horizon. "Where are we going now?"

"I don't know." His voice melted in perfectly with the waves.

Greece stood still next to him. "We can't stay here forever." Japan glanced at him, before his eyes fell to their feet, where a stray cat was nuzzling Greece's leg. It didn't look hungry anymore; surely Greece spent the last few hours finding foot for it. "Do you want to come home with me?"

Japan shrugged. "It's nice in the temple. No one comes around, really. You wouldn't have to sneak around anymore. There's a city nearby if you like that sort of thing."

"I can't just leave China all by himself," Japan mused quietly.

"What are you going to do?"

Japan didn't answer; he turned and started back toward the port city. Greece followed him, scooping up the cat who mewed in his arms. Japan wandered around a bit, weaving through crowds as he finally came up to the shipmaster, who documented any ship which sailed into the port.

"Excuse me," Japan said politely, walking up to the front desk. The shipmaster, a plumb friendly-looking man with a dark mustache, smiled and nodded at him. "I was wondering if you have any information about the whereabouts and activities of a ship named the UKB."

"The UKB? You mean the big pirate ship going around?"

"The very one." Japan was aware that Greece had stepped up next to him, staring blankly at the shipmaster with a cat in hand. The shipmaster looked at them both, before starting to the backroom.

"Let me get my records. I don't believe they've sailed into these parts as of late."

There was a rustling and Japan waited until the shipmaster came back to the front, hoisting a large file. "The last time the UKB sailed here was three months ago. Can't forget the captain; a rude blonde going by the name England. He was making a stop on his way to the east. He couldn't get into much detail about his cargo, just saying it was spices and other rare goods."

"Rare goods," Japan echoed. Greece glanced at him, scratching the cat's head. The shipmaster nodded as he scanned the file.

"He left without causing too much of a fuss. He got into a run-in with the local authorities over one of his crewmembers streaking though. Goodness, that riled up the town." Japan nodded again. It had to be France, who was a liberty to share anything with anyone. "But other than that, no recent activities. No one has come in saying they've encountered that ship, thought. Some of our east merchants claim they haven't seen the UKB in the seas for some while, even ones that dock in Hong Kong. The UKB's favorite port in the east seems to be Hong Kong, and one of the merchants that's recently been there claims there was no UKB."

Of course not. They chased them away. The UKB was supposed to be ridden with damage. "You haven't heard of the UKB showing up elsewhere?"

"Nope." The shipmaster closed the log. "They've apparently slipped off the map recently. They're a hot item, as the Allies are supposed to be chasing them down. No one I've talked to seems to have seen them."

Japan bowed. "Thank you for your time, sir." He turned and left without gesturing to Greece, who followed him still the same. The cat was purring contently in Greece's arms.

"So now what?"

"We go visit China." Japan strode confidently down the port. "If England hasn't been showing up at his house, chances are, China's suffering from withdrawal. It'll be easier to talk to him this way and maybe we can help him." Wrapping the thin scarf around his neck, Japan glanced at Greece. "You don't have to come with me," he said quietly.

"I don't mind."

"Are you sure? Last time…"

"Last time was last time." Greece stared in front of him as if there was something he was looking for. "I went along for the ride, so I should see this thing through."

Japan was silent for a moment. Greece looked down as he felt the ninja's hand knock against his. "Thank you," a small voice murmured, before they picked up their pace. Greece smiled slightly to himself as he held the cat, still purring in his arms.

To be continued

--

Note: Taking a break to bring you a quick update! Review!


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: If Axis Powers Hetalia were mine, I wouldn't need to write fanfics. If any of these songs were mine, I wouldn't be writing fanfics.**

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**Minimal fluff 09!**

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Of Seamen and Landlubbers 14

Spain was lying on the bed, slightly sitting up while jotting down notes on their travels, when Romano came into the room, wearing a long undershirt Spain recognized to belong to himself. He hadn't reacted and went back to writing until Romano climbed onto the bed next to him, crawling up to the empty space next to Spain. That earned him a reaction, as Spain closed his log book and set it aside on the table. "Romano! It's not every night you join me!"

"Shut up, dammit." Romano reached up and lifted the glasses off the bridge of Spain's nose. "I didn't know you wore glasses."

"They're reading glasses."

"Your eyes are bad when you're this young? I shouldn't marry a cripple after all."

"I'm not crippled!" Spain chuckled as he wrapped his arms around Romano, resulting in a violent struggle. "So if I got rid of my glasses, you would marry me?"

"That's not what I meant," Romano scoffed, sitting up and crossing his arms. Spain chuckled again, coaxing the older twin down on the bed so they were lying facing each other. The close proximity seemed unnerving to Romano, who instantly propped himself up on an elbow.

"I have a question," he asked slowly. Spain sensed hesitation and smiled encouragingly at him. "How did you react when you found out I was a guy? I mean, I know you were head over heels since the beginning, but what did you do when you realized I wasn't a girl?"

Spain exhaled, the friendly look on his face still present. "Why are you worried about something like that?"

"I'm not worried. I just want to know."

Spain rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. "Well…it was surprising, that's for sure…"

Spain knew he shouldn't be surprised he had been invited to Rome's annual winter formal, as he _was_ Romano's fiancé, but he was excited about it nonetheless. The envelope had a scent of lavender, the familiar perfume that he'd smelled on Romano times before. It was enough for him to chase a stupid thought that maybe Romano had handled his invitation personally.

It was true. He couldn't deny it. He really was 'stupidly and blindly' in love with Romano, as his personal secretary Portugal put it. When he'd shown the invitation to Portugal and requested the evening of the formal be freed, the brunette had looked at him with a sly expression.

"Should I free up the day after as well? And should I be expecting you that night?"

Spain flushed but he knew he was grinning like a maniac still the same. "Of course! What would you expect?"

Portugal opened the date book, sighing as he flipped the pages to the date. "I don't know, Spain…you seem more and more like a masochist the more you spend time with Romano. She keeps you under her finger and you always go crawling back to her even when you've displeased her or she's hurt you. It's astounding."

"It's _love_," Spain insisted.

"You were always the dramatic one," Portugal mused, penning down the date. "I just don't hope you get burned in the end."

Portugal was always pessimistic. Spain ignored his opinions and looked forward to the formal as if it was a day of his coronation. On the day, he quickly assembled his finest outfit and dragged Portugal out to find a corsage for Romano. He had been so absorbed that Portugal had to remind him of the time and he dashed home to change. Coming out of his room in his most formal best, he turned to let Portugal have a 360 degree look as the secretary clapped halfheartedly.

"You look stunning," Portugal almost yawned. "Although it would be better if you put all that effort into someone other than Romano."

"You never liked Romano," Spain pouted, looking himself in the mirror.

"Forgive me for not worshiping the arrogant spoiled girl, Spain," Portugal proclaimed, rolling his eyes. "She hurts my best friend and you expect me to sing her praises? Not to mention she's hardly a beauty."

Spain frowned. "Don't say that."

"Sorry. It's what I think." Portugal stood to get the carriage. "I'll meet you in the front in a bit. Don't forget the roses."

The roses! Spain couldn't decide in the end what corsage to get and Portugal had taken the liberty of deciding for him and getting an elaborate rose corsage with a brilliant arrangement of red and pink roses. Portugal may not have supported his decision about Romano, but he'd do his best for his friend.

"When should I come around?" Portugal asked, when they reached the front gates of Rome's palace. Well-dressed men and women were already making their way in. Portugal surveyed this as merely background and looked as if he was impatient on making his way back home for a relaxing three hours of no Romano talk.

"Around midnight, I guess!" Spain chirped cheerfully, leaping down from the carriage. He was about to stride over to the gates when Portugal called after him.

"Score today," his friend called, before urging the horses forward. Spain chuckled to himself as he presenting the invitation to the servant at the door and poked into the throne room. Rome was currently discussing something animatedly with a few of his friends but flagged Spain closer.

"My friends, this is the face of the one who will hopefully tame my granddaughter," Rome announced proudly. Spain grinned.

"Where is Romano?" he asked, earning knowing looks and smiles from Rome's friends. Rome himself smirked before nodding toward the door. "She's in her room. She said she wanted to look extra good for you tonight."

"Did she?" Spain felt his heart somersault and hurriedly went to the door. He did not get a chance to hear Rome's friends pull him aside to ask why on earth he would make up such a blatant lie, did not hear Rome laugh and say it was all in Spain's best interest.

Spain had been to Romano's room so many times that he could have walked down the hallway without his eyes open. The hallway was deserted; no maids were making their rounds today as they were all focused at the ballroom with all the guests. Holding the rose corsage in one hand, Spain was about to knock when he noticed the door was slightly ajar and poked his head in, about to call Romano.

Instead, there was a boy in the room, a completely flat-chested boy wearing stockings and hair like Romano. The mirror was facing away from the door, preventing Spain from being noticed as he gaped. The boy soundlessly slipped on a petticoat before lacing up an ornate velvet dress. Spain blinked, but no matter how he looked at it, his eyes couldn't trick him: there was a boy in the room, then there was Romano. Therefore, Romano was a boy. He almost dropped the rose corsage but withdrew his head before he could make a sound.

Backing into the wall in the hallway, Spain tried to calm his racing thoughts. Romano was a boy? Why would Rome tell him Romano was a girl? Why was Romano pretending to be a girl? But Romano was supposed to be related to Rome? Did that mean that Romano was one of the missing male heirs? Had he fallen in love with one of the heirs?

Now that he'd realized Romano was a guy, Spain fully expected his feelings to die down, for him to feel surprised and a bit cheated, but still, as he thought of Romano, his heart raced. Cocking his head in surprise, he quickly replayed the scene again with the same results. Romano was a boy. He was still in love with Romano.

His head was starting to hurt.

Before Spain could rethink everything again, make his head hurt more than it already did, the door in front of him opened and Romano stood in the doorway, wearing the velvet dress and a snowflake headpiece. She…no, it was a he now…he blinked in surprise, noticing Spain in the shadows.

"Spain?"

Quickly remembering his manners (girl or boy alike), he bowed before stepping up to Romano with the rose corsage in hand. Now that Romano was revealed to be an heir, he had to be _extra_ polite. "You look beautiful tonight, Romano." It was a boy! He was talking to a boy! He was admiring the dress on the body of a boy!

And he was still very much in love.

"Stupid, don't say sappy things like that, dammit." Now that he could think about it, Romano's voice was always a bit too low to be a girl's. How could he not have noticed it before? The rose corsage looked perfect on the velvet.

"Shall I escort you to the ballroom?"

"I can walk myself," Romano insisted. He hurried off, as if attempting to leave Spain behind, but the curly-haired navy captain followed him doggedly, staring at him as if he had never seen him before. "What are you looking at?"

"Nothing…" Could he bring it up? Maybe Rome and Romano didn't want anyone to know. Certainly, no one suspected the court's lady in waiting to be a man. And surely Romano wouldn't want anyone to know if he was going to dress up in women's clothes and tell everyone he was a girl. And was it right to say he found out because he peeped in while he was changing? His head was starting to hurt again.

"Stop looking at me like that then. I know I'm pretty, but that's ridiculous."

He had figured out a state secret! He couldn't let Romano out of his sight now, especially if he was the heir. Grabbing the twin's wrist, Spain stopped Romano from wandering out of his sight in the crowded ballroom. There was already a soft tune starting to build up; the dancing would begin soon. "Romano, will you dance with me?"

Romano looked back at him, a slight startled expression on his face. "Okay," he said slowly, his eyes wide as his cheeks slowly flushed. Spain sighed with relief inwardly and guided the now flustered boy to the dance floor, breezing past a triumphant looking Rome.

The first song was slow, a definite ballroom waltz. Spain wasn't the best at reading feelings, but Romano's embarrassment was too obvious to miss. It seemed as slow dancing was not his forte and he was constantly tripping over his feet. As the last note was played, the tune suddenly picked up, no longer quite a waltz. As the floor started to clear, Spain kept his hand pressed on Romano's.

"Romano! Want me to show you a dance called the Tarantella?"

The Tarantella consisted of spastic motion and although Romano had insisted he would take no part, it seemed contagious, or else it was a miracle, that he joined in, mimicking Spain's actions and laughing. Rome, never one to shy away from a good time, pulled one of the women around him to join the dance floor, winking at Spain as he passed. The mood was instantly light and even as the song died down, the good vibes and small talk did not cease. Romano was still chuckling as he went to get some air, and Spain followed him.

"I've never done anything like that before," Romano said, standing out on the balcony and staring up at the stars. "It was stupid and pointless, but pretty damn fun."

Spain smiled at him, leaning against the ledge. "Romano, you are quite something."

In the dark, Spain could hardly tell Romano was flushing. Continuing to smile lightly, Spain cocked his head. "You know I love you, right?"

"Yes. You've told me countless times already."

"I still do love you. I don't care if you don't say it back. I still love you no matter who you are." Romano's expression changed, hardened, before settling on confused. "Sometimes I don't know what you mean when you talk," the heir said finally. "It's getting chilly. Let's go back inside."

Spain nodded, leaned forward as he if were about to kiss Romano, before walking over to the door to hold it open.

"And that's the story!" Spain was still grinning like he did at the beginning of the story and Romano wondered how anyone could tell such an intimate story with such carelessness. "I mean, I was a bit surprised, but I didn't really mind. Cause everyone else was playing with it, so I figured, why not?"

"So did you ever mean it?" Romano leaned closer.

"Mean what?"

"When you said you loved me." Closer still.

"Always. I always meant it." Spain chuckled, finally looking sheepish. "I don't know why you never believed me, but…"

Romano leaned down and kissed Spain on the mouth.

--

Italy sighed, staring up at the sky. The moon was pretty tonight. Its light almost hid the stars in the black sky. Feeling a little content, Italy suddenly remembered Germany's reaction that morning, when he'd woken the blonde wearing nothing but the apron.

"Italy," Germany said, his voice harsher than usual as he covered his eyes. "Italy. Put some clothes on before anyone sees you."

Maybe Romano was right. He shouldn't continue chasing after Germany if the man wasn't interested, right? But although he had resolved he'd tell Germany how he felt to get it all in the open, he hadn't been able to say anything. How could he explain that his 'I love yous' were all real, when he'd told Germany he always meant then? How could he show Germany they were different?

"Italy." Italy jumped, almost leaping out of his skin, and turned to see Germany walk up to him at the figurehead. Instinctively shrinking back at Germany's angry look, Italy quickly tried to explain himself. "Oh, Germany, I wasn't really tired so I didn't go to bed yet, I'll come in a while, I still want to get some air…"

"Is something wrong?"

Italy blinked, unsure about the question. "What?"

"You've been acting strangely lately." Germany sounded strict, but it was his usual tone. "Is something wrong?"

"No! Nothing!" Italy played with his fingers. There was no one around. He could just blurt it out, right? Then he'd have gotten the big thing on his chest off. Why was it when he had to speak, he couldn't, and when he should keep his big mouth shut, he would go off on a string? "That is…I just wanted to say…"

"Go on."

"I…Germany…" Take deep breaths. He could do this! Just three little words! Three little syllables! Italy gripped his hands into fists. "Germany, I…!"

Did he really have a chance, when Germany's face darkened like that? Italy felt a shadow fall over him and started to turn around when Germany seized him and pulled him close in a protective embrace. A spark hit where Italy had been standing a moment before and the younger twin looked up to see Turkey floating a few feet above, smiling diabolically.

"Think you're faster than my paralysis bolt?" Turkey cackled. "I came for my twin!"

"You never give up, do you?" Germany called, keeping Italy pressed against him. "What will it take for you to leave the twins alone?"

"Until I get one myself!" Turkey shouted, swooping down low with energy crackling in his hand, aiming for Germany's head. Italy whimpered, clutching at Germany's sleeve. At the last moment, before Turkey's hand collided with Germany's head, the blonde officer dove aside, taking Italy with him, falling into the coils of rope. Italy flushed as Germany landed on top of him.

"Stay down," Germany ordered, hovering over the embarrassed twin and looking up for Turkey. "Stay by me and you won't get hurt."

"Okay." As Turkey flew down again, Germany took a coil of rope and threw it at the airborne enemy, grabbing Italy with one arm and taking off across the deck. Italy felt his heart race; being held by Germany so tightly was so unusual!

"You rats think you can get away with my prize!" Turkey growled, urging his carpet along as he tailed Germany and Italy. Shooting a beam of static, Turkey's aim finally hit and Germany stumbled as a light shock ran up the back of his knee. Italy cried out as they tumbled and hit the railing.

"Don't think I won't hesitate to kill you if you get in my way," Turkey snarled, raising his hand. "Just be a good boy and scoot away."

Germany shifted so he was leaning in front of Italy, who was shivering behind him. His leg was still feeling wobbly. "I am one of the twins' guards," he said clearly. "I won't let them get hurt."

"Suit yourself," Turkey shrugged. The energy building his hand was starting to spark, sending an electric current in the air. Germany turned, facing his back toward Turkey, shielding Italy from the coming attack. Italy flushed again as Germany leaned close; their noses were touching.

"Hey, _camarada_! How many times do we have to kick you out of the _Valiente_?" Spain's voice sounded oddly cheerful in such a threatening situation and there was a sound of flying rope, a cry, and a clatter on deck.

Germany and Italy turned. Turkey had been lassoed and fallen on deck, while the carpet stayed floating in midair, waiting for its master to saddle on again. The rope trailed back to Spain's hands, where the captain was smiling and holding the rope taunt. "It seems like you should be on crew if you going to be here all the time!"

"Don't think you can get your grubby paws on my brother!" Romano shot out of nowhere, leaping on Turkey, whose arms had been tied to his sides with the lasso shot. "I'll teach you to mess with me _or_ anyone I know!" Punching every inch of Turkey he could reach, Romano finally reached over and ripped the white mask off the man's face.

Turkey shouted, suddenly throwing Romano off, making the older twin lose his grip on the mask and sending it flying out to sea. Sending a crackling bolt up the rope, Turkey severed Spain's hold on him and shook the ropes loose. His face seemed to be his weakness, as he struggled to keep one hand on his face.

"Is your anonymity that important?" Romano asked aloud, scooting over to Spain. Turkey groped around, growling angrily.

"Give me back the mask!" Turkey demanded.

"Sorry. It's out in the ocean now," Romano said, pointing to the sea.

Howling, Turkey's hands crackled with electricity and he lunged at Romano; but the twin had a trick up his sleeve. Whistling, the twin summoned the flying carpet with the same sound as Turkey. The carpet flew up, shielding Romano from the electric punch. Sizzling from the contact, the carpet started going berserk, flying and twitching. Turkey sensed something amiss.

"Carpet? Carpet! What're you doing?!"

Grabbing a tassel, Turkey attempted to stop the crazy carpet's antics but the carpet soared up, taking the frantic man with it as it jerked away in the air, Turkey shouting behind it. Romano smiled successfully.

"I guess spending too much time with Turkey has its advantages."

Germany turned to check on Italy, bringing their faces close together again. The younger heir blushed, barely taking a breath as a second passed and Germany stood up, striding quickly below deck. He stood up as well, starting to call for the blonde but Germany had disappeared by that point. Feeling a bit frantic, he turned to his brother, who was standing next to Spain, with a blank expression.

"Well? Go after him, stupid."

Scampering below deck, Italy paused at the foot of the stairs. There were many rooms Germany could have gone into. He could even have gone to visit Berlin. He couldn't go around the cause a fuss so late in the night. Berlin would have gone asleep by now. Taking a breath, he went with his gut and walked into his room.

Germany was sitting with his back against the wall, head in his hands as if grieving for a loved one. Italy crossed the room soundlessly and kneeled in front of the officer, reaching over to tap Germany's hand. At the contact, Germany stiffened, taking his hands from his face and maintaining a professional, apathetic expression. "Italy. Excuse my rash behavior. I shouldn't have grabbed you like that."

"Germany…" Shifting so he was sitting on his feet, Italy looked earnestly at Germany. "Why did you leave like that?"

Germany cleared his throat, a slight flush creeping up his neck. "Italy. I think it's in both of our best interests if we keep some distance between each other."

Italy's eyes widened, the big round brown eyes nearly swallowing Germany whole. "But why?"

"I'm merely an officer. You're one of the twin heirs. It's best if there are no attachments involved. I cannot afford to get involved with you. You're making it difficult." Noticing Italy's apparent confusion, Germany clarified. "If I stay with you, I might fall for you." There. He'd finally said what was on his mind. Now Italy could act accordingly, and stay away…

"Then…then please do!" Germany blinked in surprise and nearly had a heart attack as Italy leaned in and kissed him. "Because I really, really want you to! It's okay if I like you back then. I really, really love you, you know!" Italy squirmed closer, his determined face littered with a fierce blush. "So please fall for me…"

"I can't," Germany insisted, uncomfortable with the closeness. He was used to a strict, disciplined life and Italy was throwing him off course. "You're the heir of a nation. It wouldn't be right for you to be with someone in my position."

"I don't care." Italy looked nervous, but his eyes dared Germany to contradict him. Germany was one who could say no easier than he knew how to breathe, but Italy was someone he found hard to reject. "I want to be with you. So it doesn't matter who I am and who you are."

Reality was not as cut and dry as Italy put it, but Germany found it hard to help himself and put a hand on the younger heir's head, pulling him closer so their lips met again, an excited squeak leaving Italy's mouth. It was against his better judgment and everything he had planned his life out to be. But when Italy ran his hands through his hair, Germany figured just this once couldn't hurt.

--

Poland had drawn up the maps, and even offered to take Lithuania on his ship. Lithuania explained that he planned on taking the Hero U.S, in case America needed his crew – and besides, Sealand was more than ready to sail and the crew was already ready. The blonde was very enthusiastic, already decked out to get ready to sail. "Oh, you totally don't know how excited I am! It's like I'm part of a whole big fun pack adventure! To commemorate, I think I'll go get that ad_or_able shade of lippy I saw!" Skipping out of Russia's house, Poland called back to Lithuania as he made his way to the port city. "We're setting sail in about three hours! It takes about a day to get to that island, you know!"

Lithuania nodded, as he went back in the house, amidst bustling as America's crew were getting ready to take their belongings to the ship. Russia had offered help when they docked, but he hadn't let anyone help the Hero U.S's departure. Lithuania ducked his head as he passed by the man, but Russia reached out and grabbed his arm.

"Lithuania," the big man said, his voice sounding void of emotion. "Are you really going to be leaving?"

"Yes." Lithuania swallowed, no longer feeling a paralyzing fear, although his stomach was starting to flip unpleasantly. He didn't like to look Russia in the eye from the beginning, but even more so after they had slept together. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got make sure…"

"You were always my favorite, you know." Lithuania bit his lip, staring at the floor. "I always favored your company. I've done a lot of things I can't apologize for. But I hope you know that."

"What is that," Lithuania muttered. "Your type of a confession?"

"How did you know?" Russia grinned, furthering troubling Lithuania's stomach. "Everything's better when you're around, Lithuania. Will you come back?"

"I don't know." There was an underlying no, and Lithuania felt Russia's grip on his arm tighten slightly. For a moment, he wondered if the man would stop him from leaving, physically blockading the door, but the next moment, he had been released.

"You can come back any time, Lithuania." Russia smiled mysteriously. "I just want the best for my loved ones. But my house gets lonely sometimes."

"What about your sisters?" Lithuania asked. Although he had been set free from the vice grip, he found it hard to walk away. "Ukraine and Belarus?"

"Ukraine's got too much on her hands to visit me," Russia said, looking a bit sad. "And I've got guards in case Belarus tries to visit me." Russia was usually the one instilling fear and Lithuania had always thought it strange that such a pretty woman was the one who could frighten such a person. "Poland's awfully annoying and none of the soldiers matches up to you. I hope you'll come back when you've finished with your business."

Stockholm's Syndrome. Maybe he'd fallen under its influence without his conscious knowing. "Maybe," Lithuania said falteringly. "Maybe I'll come back. But I wouldn't hold my breath."

"I can hold my breath for a long time," Russia replied, the perpetual smile on his face.

To be continued

--

Notes: Oh, my dear readers, I seemed to have neglected updating this! So here is a chapter for all your times. Ooer, it is fraught with sappy fluff. I apologize. But we all love a good Spain/Romano and Gertalia, don't we? Yes we do. I'm sort of short changing the JOKER part, but rest assured that the Giripan and Ita-twins arcs sort of die down at the end. And all secrets will be revealed. Stay tuned for the next chapter, heading your way shortly! Review, please!


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: If Axis Powers Hetalia were mine, I wouldn't need to write fanfics. If any of these songs were mine, I wouldn't be writing fanfics.**

Background music: ---

**Minimal fluff 09!**

--

Of Seamen and Landlubbers 15

America poked around the edge of the forest. This island was a mysterious place. That, or he was horrible with directions. He thought this was the path to England and the pirate's hideout, but he couldn't seem to find his way anymore. Frowning and standing in the sandy path, America looked around, all the trees looking the same to him. Was he lost now?

If Lithuania was here, he'd have a map for sure. By now, Lithuania must be frantic. He'd been missing from Russia's house for a week already. Maybe more. He couldn't tell time in this place.

"Hello?" It was probably a bad decision to call out, but America was beyond caring. If he was lost, he had more to worry about than being ambushed by forest creatures or pirates. There was a rustle around him and America turned sharply, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

"Who's there?" he called cautiously. He couldn't see anyone around him, but he sensed something was wrong. Heroes had to have a sixth sense, after all. Instead of feeling fear, as a normal person might, America was feeling excited. A fight with a wild lion, maybe? Or maybe a crazy pirate! England, perhaps? The blonde pirate's face floated in his head and America shook it out again. "Come out!"

A body shifted into focus from behind a tree and America almost called England's name, but no, it was another blonde. America blinked, looking at himself, but this America was different, calmer. "Canada! Where did you come from?"

"It doesn't matter." Canada stepped toward America. "I came to tell you to stay away from England."

America frowned, his hand still resting on the hilt. Brother or not, Canada was a pirate and he had to be wary. "What do you mean?"

"England. I know what you've done to him." Despite himself, America flushed. "I don't know what you're up to, but tricking someone in such a low fashion as to play with their feelings is hardly honorable." Canada leaned back on the tree, watching America carefully.

"I'm…what are you talking about, playing with his feelings? I've done no such thing!"

"Oh really?" Canada shot back. "You thinking kissing someone doesn't mean anything? Have you been doing it for fun? I'll have you know England doesn't screw around like you."

"He's been telling you about it?"

"Bottom line is," Canada said, speaking above America, "I want you to stay as far away as possible from my captain. I know you think we're pirates, but if you think you can getting into a relationship with England is going to work, you're dead wrong." There was another rustle and America tensed as Kumajiro came out from the undergrowth. This seemed to surprise Canada as well, dropping the tough demeanor he had. "Kumajiro! I told you to stay behind at camp!"

"You have an attack dog?" America asked confusedly.

"He's a _bear_," Canada clarified.

"Big difference," America said, rolling his eyes.

"They're totally different animals!" The two blinked as they realized they were arguing about trivial things, almost as if they had never gone separate ways as children. Canada fell silent, but America's face broke out in a grin.

"I haven't seen you in ages, Canada. Mom and dad are worried about you, you know. You should have written."

"I can't. We can't have contact with our families."

"They won't sell you out."

"Regardless. I can't take the risk. You're an Allies officer, after all." Canada was quiet again as he pet Kumajiro's head. "Has it been hard?"

"I guess," America considered, scratching his head. "I've got a nice boss, though. He wants to change the world. He wants to make everyone have peace with each other, and it's a nice goal, so I support him. What about you? How have you been?"

"About," Canada said vaguely. "I'm not at the liberty to discuss my affairs with you."

America rolled his eyes again. "Always one with the big vocabulary, Canada. You could have been great. Why would you join the pirates? How did you meet them anyway?"

Canada smiled dryly, his eyes trained on Kumajiro's beady ones. "Long story. It'll bore you. In short, I was hit on by a co-captain, who found out I had no where to go, and he introduced me to England. It was better than wandering around penniless."

"But Canada…_pirates_?"

"We don't consider ourselves pirates," Canada said, looking up at America. "We're just merchants who happen to be in the wrong places in the wrong times. What's so wrong about that?"

"You're carrying illegal goods."

"Not in all parts of the world."

"You ship them to places where it _is_ illegal. Breaking laws of maritime trade like that is enough to justify me calling you a pirate." America nodded, certain of his words.

"Call me whatever you like," Canada shrugged, straightening up as Kumajiro sniffed around the leaves on the ground. "There's always another side to any story, but knowing you, you stick to the one you like better. It's okay whatever you want to do, but stay away from England. He doesn't need to be worrying about you with everything he already has on his plate."

America cocked his head, looking inexperienced compared to Canada. "England's been worrying about me?"

Canada smiled strangely, stepping deeper into the forest. "You were always that kind of person, America. You charm pirates even. Promise me, America. You always stick to your promises. Promise me you won't go out of your way to look for England here. We'll be leaving soon and you can chase us all you like on the seas."

"Canada…"

"Promise me."

America sighed. He didn't think it was right to look the other way, especially when the enemy was so close by. But he was alone, no one knew, and Canada was his brother. "I promise," he caved, raising his right hand. "By my honor, I won't look for England on his island." It was a compromise, he supposed. Canada said he could resume chase once they were on the seas. Canada smiled.

"Thank you, America. No hard feelings?" Before America could reply, Canada disappeared into the trees with Kumajiro.

--

Japan stood in front of China's house. There were no guards anymore. In fact, the mansion seemed deserted. "You think China's still here?" Greece asked, standing next to him with the stray cat from the port city still perched on his shoulder.

"He should be," Japan murmured. "He never left the house anymore after England arrived." Walking down the cobbled path, he reached for the brass knocker before switching for the doorknob. It turned and opened the door. "To think China's gotten this bad that he doesn't lock up anymore…"

Greece reached out and rested a hand on Japan's shoulder. "Don't worry, Japan."

Japan touched his hand briefly, before striding into the house. "China," he called out. "China, where are you?"

There was no answer.

Japan scanned the bottom floor from his vantage at the door. There seemed to be no one around. As a ninja, he could sense the presence of other people, and there was no one but him and Greece on this floor. He made his way up the stairs, slowly and reverently, as if he were visiting the place of a thousand deaths. Greece followed, silent, and the cat had even stopped purring.

"China," Japan called again as he reached the top of the stairs. "China, it's Japan. Where are you?"

There was silence before there was a soft wail. Tense, Japan made his way down the hallway and stopped in the doorway of a bedroom. China was sitting next to the bed, looking unhealthily gaunt, clutching at his now ratty hair. There was a pipe next to him that looked untouched and an empty scrap of paper. Greece waited at the door as Japan rushed up to China, touching him on the shoulder.

"Japan," China gasped, looking up and grabbing the ninja's hands. "Japan…you've got to help me, aru. Things…things are going bad…" He shuddered, his eyes hollow. "Hong Kong won't see me, aru. He won't talk to me, aru." Japan nodded inwardly; Hong Kong had been involved in the same problem as China and it was no surprise both were suffering from withdrawal. "My people…my people aren't happy anymore…Japan, I can't help them anymore, aru!" China started crying, sobbing unashamedly, pulling Japan to his knees next to him.

"You've got to find England, aru," China said shakily. "He can help us…he can help me get better, aru…"

"No," Japan said, knowing he sounded like a parent. China was older; this role reversal was not supposed to be existing. "England won't help you. I won't let him. England is dangerous to this land. You need to be leading the people. You can't let them down by doing business with England."

"What can I do?" China whispered. "I can't think anymore. I can't do anything, aru. I…"

"Hush." Japan helped China to his feet. "I'm here, okay? I'll help you. I'll wean you off England's substance and I'll run the government until you get better. China, the people need you to get better. Okay? No more trading with England."

China shuddered, clutching at Japan. "Will I get better?" he whispered, sounding weak. It sickened Japan to his stomach to know that someone like China had been reduced to something like this. "Are you going to help me?"

"Yes." Japan gulped, helping China to the door, where Greece quickly supported China's other side. China had been too absorbed in his own thoughts to worry about who Greece was and why he was in his house. "First we're going to ban all trade with England at all our ports and we're enforce it this time. I'll have a talk with Hong Kong. We're suffering with food shortages, so we'll have to deal with that as well. There are a lot of things to be done." Japan took a deep breath, knowing he was shouldering a huge responsibility as China was unable to do so. Glancing over his friend's head at Greece, Japan helped China along. "I'll help us get back on track, China, so there's nothing to worry about."

China took a ragged breath, before a trace of a smile appeared on his face. "Thank you, Japan, aru. I thought we were all done for."

"This land has seen the last thousand centuries," Japan said confidently. "You're going to help it see the next thousand."

"I…we have been at odds with each other for years, aru," China murmured, slipping in and out of sleep. Japan could tell he hadn't been sleeping for days. "Why would you help me now, aru?"

Japan shifted, propping China firmly on his feet. "You helped me where I am. It's the least I can do." Helping China into a more aired room, he let Greece lay China on the bed. Japan turned and headed for the office, where he would be able to start helping China's land recover. He heard Greece follow.

"Greece." Japan stopped in the hallway. "I've got a lot to do."

"I understand."

"There might be bad things that happen. I'm going to make sure everything good happens, though." Japan paused, feeling Greece walk up next to him. "Will you help me?"

"I'm here, aren't I? So is Socrates." Japan turned and Greece nodded at the cat, who had started purring again. "This is Socrates." Greece fixed Japan with a confident look. "If anyone knows this place best, it's you, Japan."

Japan nodded, as he started rolling up his sleeves. There was a lot to be done.

--

There was a secret port, and in that secret port, only a select number of ships could dock in. There were numerous security issues but the _Valiente_ docked safely. Under the careful watch of many guards, a small group made their way to a modest carriage, which rode up a winding lane through a small forest, crossing an empty, rolling field, until it reached a pair of gates. The carriage passed this without trouble and stopped in front of a grand palace. The small group of four dismounted from the carriage. There was a man standing in front of the doors, hands behind his back as he watched the group come up the stairs.

The man, a friendly-looking guy much older than he looked, hurried forward, grabbing two in the group and pulled the hoods of their heads, revealing a pair of identical twins. Pulling them into a tight embrace, the man nuzzled the heads of his beloved grandsons. "Italy. Romano. You're finally back here together."

"Rome!" Italy threw his arms around his grandfather. "You're looking well!"

"Gramps," Romano acknowledged, nodding curtly.

"Let me have a look at you lovely girls," Rome gushed, pulling the two inside the palace, as Spain and Germany followed slowly behind. "I'm sure these men couldn't keep their hands off you, could they?"

Italy glanced at Romano. "Well…Rome…"

But before he could explain, Rome had pulled off the cloaks they had wrapped around themselves, revealing male garments, blinking in surprise as the whole trick was unveiled publicly, with the servants watching behind the corner. Romano rolled his eyes and stood waiting for a response; Italy gasped as if he had been stripped naked.

"Hmm," Rome said, after a while. "At least _that's _taken care of."

There was another lengthy silence, as if all the problems could have taken care of themselves if they had a quiet time to do so. When no one moved, Rome sighed and waved his hands. "Mini reunion meeting in the throne room! There's a bit of things I want to clarify before we lay on the thick mayo."

"What?"

"Never mind, follow me!" Sounding every bit as cheerful and untroubled as always, Rome practically skipped to the throne room. Romano could tell who Italy got the idiot genes from. Once all four of them had situated themselves in the ornate room, Rome bounced and collapsed on the throne, looking important and serious for once before breaking out into a grin.

"I'm so excited the two of you are home~!" Rubbing his hands together, Rome's smile faded a bit. "But now you're back, we've got to get rid of the important stuff. First of all, Spain, now that you know, you're free to back out of this deal we got here about marrying Romano. Granted, of course, you don't break your vow of silence."

"I would never do that," Spain reassured, before collecting Romano in his arms. "And I'd like to marry Romano anyway!"

Rome stared as Romano struggled in the navy captain's arms. "That is certainly arrangable," the leader said thoughtfully. "Same gender marriages are hardly surprising even back in the day. Ah, maybe I would have married as well, but there were too many lovely ladies out there~!" Rome almost became lost in nostalgia when Romano broke him out of it with a loud outburst.

"Then you're stuck with me until you die!" he shouted, trying to injure Spain in any way possible with his arms locked at his sides from the latter's embrace. "If you even _look_ at anyone else in a bad way, I'll kill you! I won't let anyone else have you!" Startled at his apparent confession, Romano thrashed harder.

"Well, _mi encanto,_ I would never dream of looking at anyone else besides you!"

As Spain continued cuddling Romano (the latter unnoticeably slowly allowing more contact), Rome turned to Feliciano with a kindly smile. "And now, Italy…it would also be in your best interest to marry young as well…"

"Then I pick Germany!" Pulling the blonde man forward, Italy's face broke out in an equally sunny grin. "Grandpa, this is Germany. I met him when he came and rescued me from Sparta, then from Turkey! I love him a lot and I want us to get married! Is that okay?"

Rome looked surprised and Italy pressed on breathlessly. "We know each other a whole lot, and look, look! Look what he gave me!" Pulling out the cross from under his shirt, Italy flashed it around. "Please, Rome, please!" He had the air of begging to keep a stray, but in Italy's case, marriage and adoption were on the same levels. Germany had to exert extreme self control to stop himself from face-palming.

"I guess it depends on Germany then," Rome said amusedly. "So, Mister Germany, how do you feel towards my adorable grandson?"

"I…" Did this question really have to be answered in front of this huge gathering? By huge, four listeners were enough. Clearing his throat, Germany figured it did not help that Italy was staring up at him expectantly with those mind-melding eyes of his; not to mention Rome was watching him like a hawk and even Spain and Romano had stopped their hug fest to listen. It had been awkward enough to speak of it with Italy, but…

"Germany?" Italy's voice was soft but confident. "Do you love me?"

Yes, he thought…no, he _knew_ he did. All it took was a 'Yes' or even a nod, but all those seemed insignificant. If he said it, he would be sure, everyone would be sure. But it was like asking a fish to fly. Rome leaned closer, as if more intensive staring could force the answer from him.

"Goddamn it, you bastard! Just say yes, already!" Romano shouted, still living in Spain's embrace.

"I vouch for him too," Spain said cheerfully.

There was a tense "_Well?" _waiting in the air. Germany cleared his throat again, looking away from Italy since that boy could make him mute forever. "Yes," he said finally, amazed his vocal cords had not been rendered useless. "I…" _Just say it or they'll stare at you until the end of time!_ "…love Italy, and it would be my honor to…" But he didn't have to finish the sentence, or even form a coherent thought because Italy finished it for him.

"I love you too, Germany!" the heir shouted, tackling him. "And I _will_ marry you! Ve~ I'm so happy!"

"Thank goodness everything's settled!" Rome said, sounding utterly relieved. "Less work for me to do! It's already so late in the day! It's time for my midday siesta! We can talk about the serious stuff tomorrow. There's plenty of time for that."

With that said, Rome promptly – in typical Italian style – fell asleep on the throne.

--

Okay, so Canada told him to leave England alone. Why did he feel like he _had _to? Arg, this stupid pride and dignity he had. It wasn't like he didn't like spending time with Seychelles and her family, but if he couldn't do anything, he may as well go back to Russia and bash his head at the wall until the Hero U.S was fixed.

"America? You okay?"

America, who had his cheek pressed against the table, glanced up to see Seychelles looking worriedly at him. She was holding what looked like a toy fish.

"I'm fine, Seychelles. Just bored."

"Aw. That's unfortunate." Seychelles glanced around to make sure her parents weren't around. "Hey, Mister America," she said, lowering her voice and sounding excited, "when my dad gets bored, sometimes he goes more inland! There's a little pub there called Island Bliss and they apparently serve the best scotch! Daddy sometimes comes home smelling all nice and perfumey like mom, but mommy doesn't know!" Seychelles giggled. "Mommy would get mad. Once she found out and he couldn't go for weeks!"

"That's nice," America said, smiling as the mental image of Seychelles's mother was rather funny.

"What's I'm saying is…I think you need to unwind and relax too! Daddy says it helps a lot. Sometimes I have to help him get back in the house when he's too drunk…so you should go! It could help!"

How could he have come this far as to take drinking advice from a nine-year-old?

"Go!" Seychelles pushed America up from the chair and over to the door. "I'll tell them you went on a walk. I can't help you come back in, though, or else they'll get mad at me. You can find the house by yourself in the dark, right?"

"Of course." America grinned as he patted Seychelles on the head. "You know, girl, you're pretty okay for a nine-year-old. You're pretty awesome."

"Yeah! And you're pretty awesome for a twenty-year old, America." Seychelles laughed and smacked America's arm, the only place she could reach. "Have some fun. Come back with some ladies."

America rolled his eyes as she pushed him out the door. "I think you need to make sure you don't repeat certain things to your parents when you talk to them."

"I don't. Relax."

Seychelles gave him one last good-luck wave before closing the door gently behind him and he found himself strolling up the path to the main road despite himself. Was he really going to this bar like Seychelles suggested? Well…he had nothing else to do, and even if he wanted to go back home, the ships didn't go back until morning. And he needed a little something if he was going to last a boring night. The walk wasn't too long, and he had hitched a ride on a cart half way.

The pub in question was located in a little watering hole a few miles from the closest city inland. It was a lively watering hole, with a few inns and a couple of general stores. It reminded America of a pit stop he made once; he believed it was somewhere owned by a guy he pissed off (Cuba, ah, yes, he could never forget that man's name). Cute and quant.

Island Bliss was a small bar in the middle of the action. It seemed to have a nice flow of traffic tonight, as America watched a group walk in. It wouldn't hurt to have a few drinks. He could find the cart's owner again, he was sure. Or he could just steal a horse. He was leaving the next morning anyway.

He had nothing to lose. America pushed open the door and was surrounded by the welcoming smell of alcohol and smoke. The lighting was dim, and the cigar smoke was heavy; walking through a haze of smoke, America passed a few card tables and a few other tables where a small group had emptied a few pints of beer already. Making his way to the bartender, America found himself at a loss. He didn't drink regularly.

"Scotch, on the rocks," he said, surprised at how fast he came up with the order. The bartender nodded and got on his drink.

There was a groan nearby and America ignored it, playing it off as a drunkard settling in for the night. When the scotch arrived, America took a sip and cringed at the scalding feeling down his throat.

The bartender was trying to have a conversation with someone surrounded by a dozen shot glasses. America glazed this over, looking at the card tables and wondering if he could have a quick game before he went back home. Drinking was not one of his strong suits and…

Wait.

His eyes skirting back to the bar, America blinked. The bartender was still trying to talk some sense into the babbling drunkard, but this drunkard was not any ordinary drunkard.

It was unmistakably England at the bar a few stools away from him.

To be continued

--

Note: Hey guys. I have had almost no time to write. I'm trying my best to finish up the next chapter, but I have run out of prewritten chapters to heat up and serve. So stay with me for a while whilst I struggle to find time, eat Su-san fish, and generally laze around while deadlines fly like scorn at me. It's only a few more chapters left, so please don't give up yet! I'm doing my best! Review, please!

I apologize for the Italy fluff. I can't seem to restrain myself.


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: If Axis Powers Hetalia were mine, I wouldn't need to write fanfics. If any of these songs were mine, I wouldn't be writing fanfics.**

Background music: --

**Minimal fluff 09!**

---

Of Seamen and Landlubbers 16

This was impossible. America took another sip of the scotch, barely touched, and the burn made sure he was still sober enough. It was England, that beautiful pirate, leaning against the bar, murmuring curses at the bartender.

"Please, sir," the bartender was saying frantically, "you should be heading home. You've had enough. I'm not going to make you more."

"I pay you to serve, not to talk," England drawled, although he hardly seemed in the state to drink more. "And I _say_ you get me another round."

"Sir," the bartender said firmly, "I will not."

"_You, I'll have your head for this, I will…_"

"Excuse me!" America chirped, popping up next to England and waving at the bartender. "Sorry! He's with me! Don't worry about him. I'll make sure he gets home."

The bartender shot him a worried look before shrugging and walking away. America sat down on the stool next to England, who was muttering to himself while watching the bar.

This wasn't going back on Canada's promise, was it? He didn't go _looking _for England…England found _him_. So it wasn't breaking it, was it? Somehow, it seemed like he was, but America shook his head. He had not had the intention to find England, and if England and this opportunity stumbled into his hands, he would not let it go.

"Hey, England!" America said cheerfully, poking the blonde. "You shouldn't drink anymore. You'll get sick. Let's go, okay?"

England turned toward him, his eyes hazy. "America," the pirate breathed, and America could smell the sherry on his breath. "You…_idiot_. Do you…" Wobbling on the stool, England tried to steady himself as he attempted to finish his sentence. "…know how…much _trouble_ you're giving me?"

"Well, it comes with the job!" America grinned, reaching out to stop England from toppling onto the ground. Surely the smoke and the drinks weren't working wonders for this man's system.

"I'm…I'm _older_ than you, you bloody git. You're just…a _child_…" England's words were mixing with each other and America focused intently to pick out the individual words. "But _you_…you're always…_here_." England's finger floated up, zigzagging in the air like a drunk finger, before coming to a rest on top of his head. "You," he repeated, blinking his green eyes in America's direction.

"How so?" America asked, entertaining England's thoughts.

"First," England mumbled, looking disoriented as he swayed, "you were an Allies soldier. You were an enemy. And then you established you were going after me. And then you…you…" England fumbled around for America's collar and pulled him in for a kiss. The latter barely had time to react before England pushed him off, still murmuring. "You _kissed_ me on my ship. It was…I couldn't…it was difficult to forget. But then I did, and I promised I would never see you again. And then…you…" America could hardly get his bearings when England kissed him again, more fiercely. "You kissed me _again_ and I can't forget this time. I'm a pirate. Pirates never forget."

"Like elephants," America said helpfully, his mind boggled by this turn of events.

"Fucking elephants," England whispered, practically climbing on America's lap as he attacked him a third time, kissing voraciously and nearly knocking them both onto the ground. America wrapped his arms around the pirate's waist to steady himself and found he enjoyed the way the blonde leaned into him. "Canada kept telling me not to, but I'm drunk and what can he do about it?" England asked bitterly, taking a breath.

"You could resist," America smiled, his eyes narrowing a challenge. England's face was hovering over him, the glassy green eyes dimmed with alcohol and desire.

"No one can resist you," England scoffed, tossing his head. "If I could, I wouldn't have kissed you, would I?"

"Touché," America grinned, leaning up to capture the man's lips again. He wasn't seeking out England, that was for sure, but he _did_ initiate this. Canada floated in his mind again and America blocked him out.

It is hard to think about brothers when you're making out with someone.

Somehow, they managed to stumble over each other outside, avoiding colliding with anyone still in Island Bliss. The cold air managed to bring America's senses back to him, although he accepted them grudgingly.

"We should get you back home," he said slowly, holding England up. The pirate laughed at him, his arms around the Allies' admiral. "I'm not kidding. You'll feel horrible in the morning."

"Then I'll feel horrible in the morning," England said, smiling hazily up at America. "I feel good now."

They kissed again.

"No, really," America protested again, breaking away. He had the feeling he was doing something wrong. "We shouldn't be doing this in the first place, since you're obviously out of your mind. But we shouldn't be doing anything like this anyway. You're a pirate."

"That didn't seem to cross your mind when you kissed me before."

They kissed again.

"It was different before," America insisted.

"How?"

"I could have found out what illegal activities you were up to. It doesn't benefit me really to kiss up to you here. I don't have any proof even if you told me."

"Why would you kiss me just because your job tells you to?"

They kissed again. America decided to just go with it.

--

Spain had been in an increasingly good mood ever since they had landed in Rome's port. Germany wondered if his captain might explode from good feelings. Just walking past the Balkan captain, Germany felt palpable waves of good cheer and couldn't help feeling a bit lighter (a foreign, sort of disturbing feeling).

"Great turn of events, huh?" Spain said in a strangely high pitched voice. Hmm…Germany had seen Spain fight numerous battles and worm his way of many a tight situation and return unscathed. Love did make a good man a fool. The lieutenant was unsure on how to proceed. Luckily, Spain seemed to know where he was going, as a door down the corridor opened and Romano poked his head out.

"Spain." The heir seemed a bit embarrassed to be caught and glared at Germany. "Potato bastard," he acknowledged, before turning back to the hyped up captain. "Do you…do you want to stay with me tonight?"

Germany turned away to avoid being blinded by Spain's enthusiasm.

As the older twin pulled the eager dark-haired man into his room, he turned to Germany. "The brat's room is down the hall," he nodded, directing. "I'm sure he's just waiting for you or something gross like that."

Germany, again, was baffled and was about to politely thank the twin but the door closed before he could say anything.

He had nowhere to go, and the palace was a good place to get lost, so Germany found himself standing in front of a door in the direction Romano had nodded. Love made a good man a fool. Taking a deep breath and reminding himself this was just a meeting, that he'd gone through more strenuous things than this…

"Germany? Why are you standing outside the library?"

Jolted, the blonde turned to see Italy looking at him from a nearby room. The younger twin looked confused for a moment before the familiar happy face took over again. "Oh! Were you trying to find my room? I'm over here, silly!" Giggling, Italy grabbed Germany's hand and pulled him into the room (Germany found this almost identical to Spain's situation and marveled momentarily at the twins' supernatural sync).

Germany looked from the hand that held his, up the arm to the white, ruffled nightgown Italy was wearing. It was a bit too big for the boy and almost appeared like a silky tablecloth on a child. "That's…" Germany tried to find the right words as Italy stared at him. "That's…an interesting outfit."

Italy looked down at himself, before beaming up at Germany. "I know! I found it and I thought it was so cute. And guess what? There's something better about it too!" Letting go of the blonde's hand, he twirled around to the bed before turning back to face Germany. With a shrug, the nightgown fell to the floor.

"Look how easy it is to take off!" Italy seemed nonchalant at the fact that he was wearing completely nothing as he walked back over to Germany and wrapped his arms around the flustered man's neck. "Do you like it, Germany?"

Before words could come again, Italy pressed his lips against his and then, of course, thinking was out of the question.

--

"_America_…"

America wasn't sure if he heard England murmur his name, but hitched the sleeping pirate further up his back to avoid dropping the man. He definitely wasn't going to regret anything in the morning, but he wondered if England felt the same, would feel some sort of shame at pulling the admiral down to the leafy ground and pushing their clothes off.

It wasn't in the job description to knock up a pirate in the woods at the deepest part of night.

He was learning new things every day.

"_America…"_

England was truly, smashingly drunk, but it didn't stop his voice from crying out at certain points, a decidedly cute sound. America wondered how this happened. Just weeks ago, he would have cringed and chundered at the thought of even being looked at by a pirate, and now here he was, carrying one he had just gotten a tad intimate with that he hardly even knew.

Then again, he hadn't resisted when England stumbled in the middle of the clearing and pulled him down on him, crashing their lips together. Clothes? What about them? They were shed like a deadly disease.

Hmm…

America slowed as he reached the pirate's camp. It wouldn't do to be discovered by Canada, or that flashy other lieutenant. Shouldering an intoxicated England would basically tell its own story and he was just one officer against two. Making his way down the sand so the trail wouldn't give away his footsteps, America shuffled across the beach.

England gave a sleepy murmur, a soft throaty sound. America trudged on, thinking how he'd heard that satisfied purr before. It was a good sound.

The huts were dark. America pondered if he should just leave England at the door, but it would be rather unchivalrous of him to just leave a sleeping person like that. Bumping the door with his foot, America found it open to his good graces and he crept inside, making sure not to bump into any of the darkened shadows of tables and chairs.

He was an Allies officer…he was sneaky…he was quiet. Keeping the mantra in his head, America tiptoed down the darkened hallway and found an empty room, presumably England's. Laying the still inhibited pirate on the bed, America watched him for a moment before scampering out of the room. He didn't come all this way to be caught.

America was closing in to the room where he entered from when a small body suddenly walked out of another room into the hallway. America froze, panicking slightly. If he came to it, he could probably knock the boy about and escape. However, the boy didn't seem alarmed at all and wobbled past, yawning a tired, "Good night, Canada" before going through another door. America stayed where he was for a moment, off the hook, and continued on his way out of the hut.

He was making his way up the beach when he noticed a bunch of boxes lying on the sand, uncovered for all to see. There was a moment of recognition when America realized these were the goods that England had been trying to protect. He was dealing with a pirate…and he just _happened_ to be here…and Canada never said he couldn't snoop…he would be spitting on justice's face if he didn't investigate!

America scanned his quiet, calm surroundings before rushing over to a box and nudged it. The lid was stubborn, but before he could result to any noisy ways to dislocate it, it shifted and revealed a corner of the box's interior. In the scant moonlight, America could smell the scent of dried organic material and reached in to feel something dry. Pulling out the object, he inspected it – it was a dried flower with a bloated bulb.

It was sure as day a poppy.

Poppies in this quantity always meant opium.

And opium was illegal to transport.

America felt his stomach drop. He'd had his big breakthrough. He'd found the evidence he needed to evict these pirates from the seas and everyone back at headquarters would finally acknowledge his awesomeness. What did you expect? America smiled smugly.

But this was England he was dealing with. The very England he had exchanged intimacies with only such a short time ago. America grimaced; this would seem like he had just been playing England all along, and that was not very heroic behavior. But, he resolved, dusting the sand off his pants, justice was justice, no matter how it looked, and if he preserved it, he was definitely a hero.

--

By chance Lithuania had landed on the very island Poland had predicted and it seemed that luck was on his side again.

"America!" The lieutenant rushed over to the dazed-looking admiral, nearly tripping on the uneven ground. "There you are! Do you know how much trouble you've caused? You went missing and you didn't even tell me where you went! Well, I took it upon myself to make an executive decision and left the USSR. Sealand's faring much better." Lithuania took America's silence as a disapproval and hesitated. "I know I should have consulted you first before doing so, but in the circumstances…"

"Lithuania. Round up the troops. We're making an arrest tomorrow morning."

Lithuania's eyes widened. "What are you talking about?"

America shook his head, as if clearing his thoughts, and the shine in his eyes came back. "It's been a busy night, Lithuania. But it's for the better. I found them! I found the pirates!"

Lithuania blinked. "You did? How?"

America shrugged nonchalantly, as if it had only been chance. "I just…happened to see them. But we've got proof this time." Pulling out the poppy he slipped in his pocket, America flourished it proudly. "This is all we need to lock 'em up and throw away the key!"

"Hey, Liet, like, your captain's pretty impressive after all!" Poland, who had slinked up behind him silently, wrapped an arm around his friend's neck. "Like, you're America right? Groovy! I'm Poland, Liet's totally best friend!"

America glanced at him, like a second thought. "Hey. Anyway, is everyone ready to go for the morning? The pirates are only a few minutes away."

"Oh! Yeah! I'll tell them! They've been restless for a while." Lithuania turned, as Poland skipped down the path again to the US Hero. "America," the lieutenant said gingerly, as the valley girl slanged mariner hopped away, "are you okay? You seem…crazier than usual."

"What are you talking about?" America flashed an easy smile. "I'm fine." _I only slept with the pirate too, but that's irrelevant in the grand scheme of things._ "I'm just glad we can go back to the Boss. Chasing pirates is fun, but I wanna branch out too!"

Lithuania smiled back and trotted off to the direction of the ship, which America recognized with pleasant surprise. His boat was back. His crew was here. Everything was just falling back into place. Just like a hero was supposed to be like.

He was going to arrest a pirate he wasn't sure how he felt about. He was going to arrest his brother…oh, poor Canada. But his Boss would be lenient. He'd get Canada back on the straight and narrow again. It was what older brothers did. They helped their little brothers.

America was making his way back to greet the rest of his crew when he saw Seychelles peeking out her house door. "America!" she called quietly, before joining him on the path. "Where did you go? You don't smell like perfume. Did something happen? I saw the big boat! Is that yours? Ooh!"

America smiled at her, impressed by her energy even at such a late hour. "I'm an admiral," he said.

"I knew it. You've got that sort of explorer type to you. Daddy's said that he suspected you were part of those big guys. You carry yourself differently from a normal sailor. That's so cool! But are you leaving now? Cause the boat's here?"

"I'm making an arrest," he said proudly, puffing his chest out. Seychelles's wide-eyed reaction of awe did not disappoint.

"_Really_? Pirates, then? When! I want to see!"

"Now, Seychelles," America said, patting her on the back soothingly. "It may be dangerous. These are pirates we're talking about. I don't want you to get hurt. Tell the villagers not to follow us. But we are going to win. Heroes always do."

Seychelles's eyes shone with admiration. "That's so cool! Things like this never happen around here! Oh! I know! The guy you're interested in will definitely like you now that you've locked away pirates! I wish you the best, America!" Seychelles slammed him on the back encouragingly.

_Yes, now that I've locked away pirates…_

"Go home, Seychelles," America urged, feeling the guilty sting again. "Leave the hero work to the professionals."

To be continued

--

Notes: I apologize. I busied myself with other fics, with my other duties, and neglected this, for all you readers. For that, I am sorry. Here is a chapter to make up for your troubles and even this chapter isn't too good. But the end is coming, I promise. I can't seem to end any fics lately. Aurg. Review, please.


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: The only thing I own is the story idea and only some of the witty remarks. I own so little; so please don't steal.**

Background music: --

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Of Seamen and Landlubbers 17

_It had been a chaotic time. A lot of yelling and stumbling and fighting about. He was kept out of most of it by his father, who rounded up his own militia and his mother kept him in the folders of her dress, shielding him from the world as she busied him with housework and shooed him away from windows. _

"_What's wrong?" he asked his father one night, when his father walked into the parlor and dropped into his chair, sighing heavily and running one hand through his hair. His mother gave his father a grave look as she threaded a needle._

"_It's just…some people are trying to take what's not theirs."_

"_What do you mean?" Climbing from the perch next to his mother, England wandered over to his father, who smiled tensely and took him into his lap. _

"_You see, there's this one group of people…" His father trailed off, looking over his head to his mother, who had made a sound. "He needs to hear this. So he can fight back too."_

"_He doesn't need to hear it," she insisted, putting her needlework down. "He's still young."_

"_He needs to hear it," his father said unrelentingly. "He'll hear about it sooner or later. It's best it comes from his father." His mother, a kindly but stubborn young woman, left the room, adopting blind eye. His father turned back to him. _

"_There's a large group of people, called the Allies," his father explained. "While they're going around and taking land, they're uniting a lot of small states and restoring order. But we've been running this land for a while and nothing bad has happened. This territory has been with us through several generations. The Allies want to take this land and make it theirs."_

"_That's not fair," England frowned. "If we say no, they should let us keep it."_

"_Yes," his father said tiredly. "We refused to join with them but they won't be happy with that. That's why they're fighting with us. But the Anglos will not give in easily. This justice they say, that they will unite and improve our lives…it's a shallow one. There are always going to be ones who benefit. Wars are never fought where no one benefits. There's power being exchanged. But they can't take it from us."_

"_So they'll leave us alone and we'll win?"_

"_That's true justice, son."_

--

England couldn't remember ever being sorer.

It could all have been an elaborate dream, really. Just like the aftermath images of his childhood, which had soured his unconscious and forced him awake. Shaking his head to clear it, England tried to stand and found he didn't feel quite…right.

So it hadn't been a dream. But the hangover could have told him as much.

Oh, and the hickey on his neck. He couldn't let France or Canada see that.

"Blimey," he muttered, staring at the mirror and trying to rub the red spot on his neck off in vain. "Bloody hell…"

It was so stupid. He, in a fit of intoxication, had agreed to something that was stupid and rash. Just because one part of his brain was switched off, the rest of it decided to lose himself in the Allies officer's charms. He had promised himself he wouldn't, he wouldn't seek out America. Canada had said it was dangerous. The feelings were dangerous. Everything about America was dangerous.

America was an Allies officer.

An _Allies_ officer.

Not only the policers of the seas, but part of the _Allies_.

France could feel the change in the air, even as England stepped into the room. "The ship's fixed," he said, before the pirate captain could speak. "We can leave by this afternoon. We were all waiting for you to order to load the goods back on the boat…"

"Not yet."

France glanced at Canada. "England," the softer-spoken lieutenant tried, "America is here. We can't waste time. Although I told him to stay away, we can't lower our guard. It's best we leave…"

"I never said we weren't going to go. But not yet." Something was telling him not to act yet. Maybe the idiot in him was still awake, not yet stuffed back in its room inside. "I'll tell them when to pack again. But don't do anything I haven't ordered you to yet."

"Yes," Canada whispered. Kumajiro, who had been sitting at the door next to Hana-tamago, raised its head curiously. It sniffed the air gingerly. It suddenly stood up and lumbered over to Canada, sniffed his owner, and wandered over to England, sniffing the captain. After initially turning its nose away from the faint alcohol scent, it sat down next to the pirate, staring from him to Canada and back.

"Shoo," England called. Kumajiro stared at him for a moment, before giving one last sniff.

"I smell alcohol," France grimaced. "How late were you last night? I didn't hear you come back."

England felt his insides freeze but he surveyed France with cool apprehension. "That is none of your business."

"You didn't _meet_ anyone, did you?" France asked, with a slight smirk.

"No. Don't be nosy."

Finland peeked into the room, wiping his hands. "Ah, there you are, England! The ship's all fixed up! I think you might have heard already. There's some last minute notes Latvia would like to go over with you, though, so you know some slight additions and tweaks. Estonia would report in, but he's making sure everything's okay with Sweden. It won't take long."

England shrugged slightly. "Alright."

"Would you like anything? Tea?"

"No. Just send him in."

Finland ducked outside again and Latvia stepped gently in, looking nervous at his audience of pirates. His eyes lit up in recognition when he saw Canada. "Ah! Um…Canada…did you sleep well?"

Canada blinked. "Yes, I did. Thank you for asking."

"I thought…since maybe you were…oh, I'm sorry! I'm drifting from the point!" Holding up the notes he had been given by Estonia, Latvia promptly proceeded to drop them all, the papers fluttering to the ground.

After minutes of pure apology, Canada helped Latvia collect the fallen papers, carefully straightening them up and handing them back to the flustered boy. Latvia accepted them gratefully, looking at Canada, before _looking_ at him, as if he had missed something at the beginning.

"Eh? Is something wrong?"

Latvia shook his head slowly, although he seemed apprehensive. "Ah! Um, England, we should really talk. Estonia wanted me to tell you that the figurehead couldn't be salvaged. Was it important?"

The figurehead…the image of a majestic lady, with a name carved at the foot, weathered away by the oceans and storms, so that only the first part, Eliza—could be read. The image of his mother, set in stone.

"No, it was nothing."

--

Romano found his way to the kitchen easier than he'd thought; after months of being away, he was slightly surprised he could still find his way through all the halls. It hurt a bit to walk (Spain was a very enthusiastic kind of person was all he was saying), but the pain let him know that yes, he was back.

There was something going on in the kitchen, and Romano peeked in to see Feliciano, humming away as he prepared something.

"Italy," he said curtly, his form of good morning. Italy turned at his name, his face lighting up.

"_Buon giorno! _Are you here to cook too?" Italy practically floated across the kitchen and took his brother's hands. "Me too! I wanted to make something good for Germany so when he woke up…"

"Wait." Romano frowned and surveyed his brother, beaming and bright and it wasn't because of the sunlight streaming in through the window. "You're…_glowing_."

"I am?" This seemed to make Italy even happier.

"Yes…" The suspicion had slipped into his voice, but it wasn't like Romano was trying to hide it. "Germany's in your room, isn't he," he said flatly.

"Yup! He came to see me last night. He was really gentle. He didn't leave any marks at all."

Romano winced at the thought. "You're sort of masochistic, Italy. You didn't act this way the last time I saw you."

"Oh?" Italy's grin widened and he leaned into his brother. "But _you're_ positively sparkling too, Romano! And I didn't see Spain in any of the guest rooms, so I assume, since you _are_ going to get married…"

Romano's face flushed into such a bright color that Italy nearly giggled but held his laughter back. It would only provoke his brother into one of his anger bouts. "Shut up, dammit. You don't know what you're talking about." He breezed past his brother and peeked into a bowl Italy had been fretting about. "What are you making?"

"Biscotti," Italy said cheerfully. "Do you want to help?"

And so Rome, who knew his grandsons better than anyone, found the twins in the kitchen, arguing about what sort of condiments went well with biscotti, and cleared his throat, silencing them both. "I'm glad to see you two are at home again!"

"Grandpa Rome!" Italy cheered.

"But as much as I'd love for you two to finish, there's a pressing matter for us to talk about. Germany and Spain have already been called for, and this is an issue you all need to hear. After all, it involves the both of you and the future of this kingdom." Rome winked. "But it'll be extremely informal. I've got a date afterwards!"

Italy cheered again, despite Romano's exasperated sigh. "We'll meet you in a moment."

--

France found Latvia trotting up the beach after England had sent him off. His captain was acting very strangely and there was a fading smell of alcohol and something else. Something smelled different. Canada was no help, and France didn't want to upset the lieutenant more than he had to. He knew the blonde had been fraught with nerves knowing his brother was on the island.

"Latvia!" France called amiably, quickly putting on a friendly face. The boy turned and paused, blinking at the address. France didn't talk to him often.

"Yes?"

France quickly caught up, ignoring the sand that was collecting in his boots. Should he get to the point, or allude to it? He didn't want to alarm everyone with his doubts. "Do you think we can set off early?"

Latvia smiled placidly. "Definitely. There's still a lot of cargo you need to put on her, though. If you don't get started now, you might not be able to leave until tomorrow morning." He cocked his head, getting a little panicked. "Or should we have started to load her? Was there an order? I didn't know! Estonia and I have been worrying about fixing her and now she's fixed and we didn't hear about this…!"

"Calm down!" France chuckled. "England didn't say anything about it." He cocked his head, allowing the boy to calm down. "Say, while you were talking to England, you didn't notice anything…odd?"

Latvia stared at him and shook his head slowly. "No. He seemed completely normal. I mean, I didn't notice anything different. But I don't talk to him often, so I wouldn't know. He did seem a little preoccupied, though."

That wasn't abnormal. "I suppose," France said, and was about to bid him good day and ponder elsewhere when Latvia spoke up again.

"Ah! That reminds me. He was somewhere last night, wasn't he? I heard someone come in late last night."

"Right. He went out drinking, I believe. I would have accompanied him, but he told me he'd force feed me my own certain body parts if I joined him. Did you see him?"

"No. But I heard him. At least, I heard someone come through the hallway. I went to check, but it was only Canada."

Canada? France cocked his head. "Canada? What was Canada doing outside?"

"I don't know." Latvia started looking frantic again, as if he was being quizzed. "But he was walked away from England's room last night, so I thought maybe he was helping him to bed or something!"

For all he knew, Canada hadn't left his side the whole night. "What was he wearing?"

"Oh…a long blue coat and a gold belt. I think he had his sword with him, which sort of surprised me since I didn't think you would bring everything with you if you're going to help someone home…"

"Have you ever seen Canada wear a long blue coat?"

"No. I thought it might have been yours."

France turned slightly to the beach, as if contemplating, letting his eyes fall on the shipments of opium. "Latvia. Call the crew. Tell them to load on the boxes. I want everything on the boat before late afternoon."

Latvia clutched the papers he was holding. "But I thought you said England said not to do anything…?"

"Just do it. And don't tell England." France smiled gently. "I won't let you get in trouble, but please make it urgent."

"A-ah! Yes, sir!"

--

His father had made it clear that the Allies would never win. That they were a separate entity and they couldn't be won over. That they would never combine to one singular force.

England couldn't shake the feeling that his interactions with America somehow spat on his father's memory.

Somehow, staring at himself didn't make him feel better. He had already disposed of the clothes he had been wearing last night, pretending to forget the fact the jacket had been given to him by Canada on his last birthday. There would be no doubt that his lieutenant would eventually wonder where it had gone but would be too polite to ask. He felt bad, but he wasn't going to tell him; after all, when it came down to it, Canada knew and Canada was America's brother.

No. No matter what the stupid, romantic, _fake_ stories about love on the high seas, he had not fallen in love with America. Love made you do stupid things. Seemingly heroic, maybe, but still stupid. He still had his level head and he might as well beat that bastard to the punch and leave before he spun himself in a tizzy again.

Yes, they had to leave. Adjusting his hat, England stepped out, nodding politely at Finland who was bustling around friendly, smiling and asking if he would like something to eat? He had only smiled back, refused equally as politely, and went outside.

To his dismay, his crew was bustling around, hauling boxes and supplies. Yes, this was what he intended to do, but this was too premature to be coincidence. He spotted France in what seemed to be a silent discussion with Canada and stormed over.

"France," he spat, leveling up with his not-so-amused looking older lieutenant. "Did you tell the crew to get ready to sail?"

France looked to the sky mockingly. "I may have given the order, yes."

"Why would you do that? I told you not to act until I told you to!"

"I don't know, England," France replied, looking disapproving. "Maybe the fact that you seem so oblivious to Allies officers on the same island as we are? Maybe you've forgotten that what we're doing is slightly…oh, how shall I say…against the law? I don't know England, why would I act so suddenly? It sure isn't because you came home last night with the same person who can have all our heads!"

There was a hushed silence between the three and Canada tugged at France's sleeve, obviously wanting to play peacemaker. "France, don't say it like that. You don't know. It might not be what you think…"

"Don't try and protect him, Canada!" France shouted, his eyes glaring at England. "I am not aware how late our dear captain was out, but it must have been in the wee hours since I fell asleep an hour past midnight. Not to mention your brother was sighted _in the house_. What was he doing there? Surely you wouldn't be stupid enough to bring him here?"

"What I did last night is _none_ of your business," England said lowly, looking absolutely livid.

"Please, don't argue," Canada begged, trying to step between them. "You'll make everyone worried and that's…"

"And," France interrupted, gently guiding Canada off to the side, "the fact that it's sweltering on his tropical island but you wear your collar up high…" With a fierce tug, he pulled the fold of stiff cloth down and exposed the telltale red mark on England's neck. "Well, I suppose this speaks for itself."

When England didn't say anything, Canada tried to lessen the blow. "That…that doesn't mean anything…France…England…we should just focus on leaving, eh? It doesn't matter what happened already but arguing won't solve anything…"

"No, I need to know now," France said, staring at England. "I need to know what happened and what will happen now."

England was cornered; cornered, but not out. "Fine," he spat. "I'll say it. I slept with America alright? I was drunk, but apparently not drunk enough." He paused, looking somewhat triumphant. "What do you say to that, frog?"

France punched him in the face.

"France, stop!" Canada grabbed him, quickly stepping and staying between the two. "Fighting is not going to solve anything. Especially when we're still here. You two can beat the shit out of each other on the ship if you'd like; I won't care then. But right now, what you need to be worrying about is getting off this damn place, okay? England, you're an idiot. I'm not going to let you excuse what you did. It was stupid and irrational. But right now, you've basically led him to where we are. If we don't leave now, we'll all be in hot water. So stop acting like little kids, okay?"

England straightened up, the irritated look hardly dampened by the throbbing red sting on his cheek. France lip twitched unpleasantly but he lowered his hand. "Be thankful Canada is here to intervene," he warned England, turning to the ship. "Otherwise, you might not have the pretty face you do."

"Why thank you for exerting such self control," England replied sarcastically. "Along with showing the crew how little judgment I apparently have. Don't think for a second you're getting off of this easily, you bastard." France retaliated by storming off.

"Honestly!" England sighed, trying to release all this anger through one long breath. He noticed Canada was still looking at him pointedly. "I know, alright? I shouldn't have done that."

"Why did you let him do that?" Canada persisted. "You've been drunk before but you've never done that. Ever."

"Your brother can be…rather…seductive." He had meant to say persuasive, but hell, as he was being honest and he was on that sort of tangent, he may as well admit it.

"Don't I know that," Canada snorted.

England rolled his eyes and turned to face France, who was jogging up to them. "What have you come to say now? Because if it's another hit, I'll…"

"They're coming. The Allies. I hear them coming up the path and we don't have time to go anywhere."

To be continued

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Note: ARG I hope you can forgive me! This chapter was mostly written except for the ending and it took me weeks before I got up and wrote it! I'm so sorry! I'm a lazy aurthoress, please forgive me! I implore you!

But on other notes, many characters got lucky. Kuma and Latvia play detectives. France becomes violent. That should be the summary that you leave with. Also! America is a hero? Yes? No? I hope you still read to the end. Hopefully it will be unexpected…review, please.


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